;* 

** 


. — _____ 


iipjptiiiiii!!1 


EX-LIBRIS 


LOUISE  ARNER  BOYD 


THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 


GIFT  OF 


Louise  A.   Boyd 


AMONG  THE 
GREAT    MASTERS   OF    PAINTING 


AMONG 
THE   GREAT    MASTERS 

By 

Walter  Rowlands 


Among  the  Great  Masters  of  Drama 
Among  the  Great  Masters  of  "Warfare 
Among  the  Great  Masters  of  Literature 
Among  the  Great  Masters  of  Music 
Among  the  Great  Masters  of  Painting 
Among  the  Great  Masters  of  Oratory 


ismo,  handsome  cover  design,  boxed  separately  or 
in  sets 

DANA  ESTES  &  COMPANY 

Publishers 
Estes  Press,  212  Summer  Street,  Boston 


Among  the  Great 

Masters  of  Painting 

Scenes  in  the  Lives  of  Famous  Painters 


Thirty- two  Reproductions  of  Famous  Paintings 
with   Text  by 

Walter  Rowlands 


Boston 
Dana  Estes  &  Company 

Publishers 


Copyright, 
BY  DANA  ESTES  &  COMPANY 

All  rights  reserved 


AMONG  THE 
GREAT   MASTERS   OF   PAINTING 


Colonial 

Electrotyped  and  Printed  by  C.  H.  Simonds  &  Co. 
Boston,  Mass.,  U.  S.  A. 


GIFT 


A/D35" 


Mtfe 


273 


CONTENTS 


VAGB 

PHIDIAS i 

PAUSIAS 9 

CIMABUE 15 

FRA  ANGELICO 24 

HUGO  VAN  DER  GOES   .        .        .        ...  31 

LEONARDO  DA  VINCI 38 

RAPHAEL 49 

DURER 59 

CORREGGIO      „ 66 

MICHAEL  ANGELO  .        .        •        .        .        .75 

CELLINI 84 

TITIAN 98 

PALISSY no 

TINTORETTO 126 

CALLOT 132 

RUBENS 141 

BRAUWER        .        .        .        *       «        •       .  151 


Contents 

VAN  DYCK 

GUIDO 169 

PAUL  POTTER 173 

VELAZQUEZ 181 

POUSSIN  ........  193 

CANO       .        .        .        .        .        .        .        .  201 

REMBRANDT 208 

SALVATOR  ROSA    .       .•'.-•       .        .        .  213 

TENTERS  .        .        .                .       .        .        .  219 

WREN      .        ...        ...        .227 

HOGARTH        .        .        .        .        .        .        .  240 

REYNOLDS 248 

PAJOU      .              % 260 

CARPEAUX       .        .        .        .        .        .        .  263 

Puvis  DE  CHAVANNES 271 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 


PAGE 

MICHAEL   ANGELO    READING   HIS    SONNETS 

TO  VITTORIA  COLONNA  .         .        Frontispiece 

PHIDIAS .        4 

PAUSIAS  AND  GLYCERA         .        .        .        .12 
CIMABUE'S     MADONNA    CARRIED    IN    PRO- 
CESSION    THROUGH     THE      STREETS     OF 

FLORENCE 18 

THE  SLEEP  OF  FRA  ANGELICO  ...  26 

THE  MADNESS  OF  HUGO  VAN  DER  GOES  .  34 

THE  DEATH  OF  LEONARDO  DA  VINCI  .  .  44 
RAPHAEL  AND  MICHAEL  ANGELO  IN  THE 

VATICAN 52 

ALBRECHT  DURER  IN  VENICE  ...  64 

CORREGGIO  DRAWING  CHILDREN  ...  70 

BENVENUTO  CELLINI 92 

CHARLES  V.  PICKING  UP  TITIAN'S  BRUSH  .  104 

BERNARD  PALISSY  .  116 


List  of  Illustrations 

PAGE 

TINTORETTO  PAINTING  HIS  DEAD  DAUGHTER  ^28 
THE  YOUTH  OF  CALLOT  .  .  .  .136 
RUBENS  AND  HIS  WIFE  IN  A  GARDEN  .  146 
ADRIAN  BRAUWER  AND  HIS  MODELS  .  .158 
VAN  DYCK  PAINTING  THE  CHILDREN  OF 

CHARLES  1 164 

GUIDO  PAINTING  BEATRICE  CENCI  IN  PRISON     1 70 
THE  STUDIO  OF  PAUL  POTTER     .        .        .178 
THE  MAIDS  OF  HONOR          .        .        .        .186 

POUSSIN  ON  THE  BANKS  OF  THE  TIBER       .     196 
AN  ARTIST'S  ALMSGIVING      .      ...        .        .    204 

REMBRANDT  ETCHING    .        .        .        ...    210 

SALVATOR  ROSA 216 

THE  PAINTERS  AND  THE  CONNOISSEURS  .  222 
ST.  PAUL'S:  THE  KING'S  VISIT  TO  WREN  .  234 

HOGARTH  AT  CALAIS 242 

SIR  JOSHUA    REYNOLDS    PAINTING   A   POR- 
TRAIT       .......    254 

PAJOU  MODELLING  A  BUST  OF  MADAME  DU 

BARRY     \  .        .        .        .        .    262 

CARPEAUX       .        .        *        ....    266 

THE  COMMITTEE  ON  THE  EXHIBITION  .        .    272 


PREFACE 

THE  compiler's  thanks  are  due  to  the 
publishers  of  Lippincotis  Magazine  for  per- 
mission to  use  a  portion  of  Olive  Logan's 
article  on  Carpeaux  which  appeared  in  that 
periodical ;  also  to  Messrs.  H  ought  on,  Mifflin 
&  Co.  for  the  use  of  a  selection  from  Mrs. 
Mary  C.  Robbins's  translation  of  Fromen- 
tin's  paper  on  Paul  Potter  in  his  "Les 
Maitres  d' Autrefois"  published  by  them 
under  the  title  of  "The  Old  Masters  of 
Belgium  and  Holland."  The  late  Mrs.  Mar- 
garet  J.  Preston's  poem,  "Tintoretto's  Last 
Painting,"  is  printed  through  the  kindness  of 
her  son,  Dr.  George  J.  Preston,  of  Baltimore. 


WE'RE  made  so  that  we  love 
First  when  we  see  them   painted,  things  we   have 

passed 

Perhaps  a  hundred  times  nor  cared  to  see ; 
And  so  they  are  better,  painted  —  better  to  us, 
Which  is  the  same  thing.     Art  was  given  for  that. 

—  BROWNING. 

ART  is  not  the  bread  indeed,  but  it  is  the  wine  of 
life.  —JEAN  PAUL. 


AMONG  THE  GREAT  MASTERS 
OF  PAINTING 


PHIDIAS 

"  YES,  rise,  fair  mount !  the  bright  blue  heavens  to 

kiss, 

Stoop  not  thy  pride,  august  Acropolis! 
Thy  brow  still  wears  its  crown  of  columns  gray, 
Beauteous  in  ruin,  stately  in  decay. 
Two  thousand  years  o'er  earth  have  spread  their  pall, 
Not  yet,  thy  boast,  Minerva's  shrine  shall  fall : 
In  spite  of  rapine,  fire  and  war's  red  arm, 
Enough  remains  to  awe  us  and  to  charm ; 
Glory  and  Phidias'  shade  the  relic  keep, 
Shield  as  they  watch,  and  strengthen  as  they  weep. 
The  Doric  columns,  wrought  from  fairest  stone, 
Severe  but  graceful,  round  the  cella  thrown, 
The  lofty  front,  the  frieze  where  sculptures  shine, 
The  long,  long  architrave's  majestic  line, 
Dazzle  the  eye  with  beauty's  rich  excess, 
O'erpower  the  mind  by  too  much  loveliness." 

—  NICHOLAS  MICHELL. 


2          The  Great  Masters  of  Painting 

Little  is  actually  known  of  the  life^of 
Phidias,  but  Alma  Tadema's  picture  easily 
convinces  us  that  thus  the  great  sculptor 
displayed  to  his  friends  and  patrons  his 
completed  handiwork.  Phidias  himself,  stand- 
ing within  the  rope  barrier,  seems  to  await 
the  favorable  verdict  of  his  illustrious  pro- 
tector, Pericles,  who  confronts  him  and  has 
at  his  side  the  beautiful  Aspasia.  The  young 
man  at  the  extreme  left  seems  meant  for 
Alcibiades,  who  has  also  accepted  an  invita- 
tion to  this  private  view  of  the  frieze  of  the 
Parthenon,  seen  not  as  we  now  behold  it 
in  the  British  Museum,  but  with  its  match- 
less figures  glowing  with  the  tints  just  laid 
upon  it  by  Phidias  and  his  fellow-workers. 

For  by  this  work  of  Alma  Tadema's  we 
are  forcibly  reminded  that  the  Greeks  added 
color  to  much  of  their  sculpture.  Accustomed 
as  we  have  been  either  to  the  dull  whiteness 
of  the  antique  marble  or  to  the  clearer  white 
of  the  cast,  it  is  with  reluctance  that  we 


Phidias  3 

accept  this  conclusion,  but  it  appears  to  be 
inevitable.     Professor  Mahaffy  says : 

"  One  cannot  but  feel  that  a  richly  colored 
temple  —  pillars  of  blue  and  red,  gilded  friezes 
and  other  ornaments  on  a  white  marble  ground 
and  in  white  marble  framing  —  must  have 
been  a  splendid  and  appropriate  background 
under  Grecian  skies.  .  .  .  But  if  we  imag- 
ine all  the  surfaces  and  reliefs  in  the  temple 
colored  for  architectural  richness'  sake,  we  can 
feel  even  more  strongly,  how  cold  and  out  of 
place  would  be  a  perfectly  colorless  statue 
in  a  centre  of  this  pattern.  For  say  what  we 
will,  the  Greeks  were  certainly,  as  a  nation, 
the  best  judges  of  beauty  the  world  has  yet 
seen.  And  this  is  not  all.  The  beauty  of 
which  they  were  evidently  most  fond  was 
beauty  of  form,  harmony  of  proportions,  sym- 
metry of  design.  They  always  hated  the 
tawdry  and  the  extravagant.  So  with  their 
dress,  so  with  their  dwellings.  We  may  be 
sure  that,  had  the  effect  of  painted  statues 


4  The  Great  Masters  of  Painting 

and  temples  been  tawdry,  there  is  no 

on  earth  which  would  have  felt  it  so  keenly 

and  disliked  it  so  much." 

In  connection  with  this,  it  may  be  pointed 
out  that  the  light  could  only  illuminate  this 
frieze  from  below,  and  it  would  be  all  but 
impossible  to  see  it  properly  from  the  ground. 
Hamerton  says  that  the  Greeks  probably 
looked  upon  the  Parthenon  frieze  as  merely 
a  band  of  decoration  which  did  not  need  to 
be  looked  at  closely. 

Phidias,  to  whose  genius  is  universally 
credited  the  sculptures  of  the  Parthenon, 
though  it  is  impossible  that  they  could  all 
have  been  formed  by  his  hand  alone,  has 
been  made  the  subject  of  an  interesting  and 
suggestive  comparison  with  Michael  Angelo 
by  Professor  Waldstein.  This  authority 
says: 

"  It  is  above  all  to  Phidias  and  his  works 
that  Winckelmann's  perfect  summing  up  of 
the  attributes  of  Greek  works  of  art  applies, 


Phidias  5 

*  noble  naivett  and  placid  grandeur/  Coupled 
with  all  the  grandeur  and  width  is  that  most 
striking  feature  of  Greek  art,  the  simplic- 
ity which  adds  to  the  silent  greatness  and 
gives  a  monumental  rest  to  these  gods  of 
stone.  It  arises  from  that  unreflective,  un- 
analytical,  unintrospective  attitude  of  mind 
which  drives  it  simply  to  do  what  it  feels  and 
thinks  with  serene  spontaneity  of  action,  with- 
out analyzing  its  own  power,  not  'sicklied 
o'er  with  the  pale  cast  of  thought.'  On  this 
account  Phidias  is  the  type  of  the  plastic 
mind  among  all  artists  and  sculptors,  and  this 
simplicity  and  un reflectiveness  can  best  be 
appreciated  when  we  compare  him  with 
Michael  Angelo,  who,  though  possessed  of  the 
greatness,  lacked  the  simplicity.  The  thoughts 
and  conceptions  of  Michael  Angelo  preceded 
and  ran  beyond  his  active  and  executive 
power.  This  manifests  itself  not  only  in  his 
life,  not  only  in  the  confession  of  his  thoughts 
in  his  sonnets,  but  also  in  his  works.  Every 


6  The  Great  Masters  of  Painting 

one  of  them  tells  us  the  story  of  struggle; 
and  though  so  much  is  expressed,  we  feel, 
what  he  felt  so  strongly,  how  much  more 
remains  unexpressed,  in  the  labyrinthine  re- 
cesses of  his  ever  active  brain.  Frequently 
his  heart  failed  him  at  the  impotency  of  his 
sluggish  hands,  the  work  remained  unfinished, 
the  hand  dropped  with  disgust  and  depression 
at  the  sight  of  the  inane  gulf  that  lies  be- 
tween the  thinking  and  feeling,  and  the  doing 
and  creating.  His  greatness  then  sought  an 
outlet  in  numerous  spheres  of  thought  and 
action  separately  followed  and  intermingled. 
When  sculpture  failed  to  express  all  that  he 
felt,  he  called  to  aid  the  pictorial  element,  with 
which  he  transfused  his  plastic  works,  and 
when  painting  was  too  weak,  he  strengthened 
his  pictures  with  plastic  forms,  spreading  over 
all  his  works  a  dim  veil  of  deep  thought  and 
solemn  poetry.  Of  this  the  works  of  Phidias 
have  nothing.  Grand  or  sublime  or  awful  as 
they  may  be,  they  are  ever  serene,  they  have 


Phidias  7 

coupled  with  all  their  greatness  the  truly 
Greek  element  of  grace,  in  which  the  works 
of  Michael  Angelo  are  sometimes  wanting." 

The  many  canvases  produced  by  the  illus- 
trious Tadema  include  several  dealing,  like 
the  "  Phidias,"  with  episodes  of  artist  life. 
"  Antistius  Labeon,"  a  Roman  amateur,  show- 
ing some  of  his  productions  to  friends,  is 
one;  "The  Sculptor's  Model"  another;  a 
third  is  "Architecture  in  Ancient  Rome;" 
and  there  still  remain  the  "Visit  to  the 
Studio"  and  "The  Sculptor;"  while  not 
greatly  differing  in  theme  from  these  are 
the  famous  "  Picture  Gallery  "  and  "  Sculp- 
ture Gallery."  Although  some  of  the  artist's 
earlier  pictures  are  of  scenes  from  Mero- 
vingian history,  his  talent  has  mostly  occupied 
itself  in  reproducing  the  life  of  ancient 
Egypt,  Greece,  and  Rome.  The  land  of 
the  Pharaohs  suggested  "The  Death  of  the 
First  Born"  and  "The  Mummy;"  from 
Hellas  came  "Sappho"  and  "The  Pyrrhic 


8  The  Great  Masters  of  Painting 

Dance ; "  and  the  Imperial  City  contributed 
"  A  Roman  Emperor  "  and  "  An  Audience 
at  Agrippa's." 

No  less  than  six  pictures  by  this  artist  are 
in  the  famous  Walters  collection  in  Balti- 
more, and  they  include  the  "  Sappho  "  and 
the  "  Roman  Emperor."  Mr.  Henry  G.  Mar- 
quand,  of  New  York,  owns  Alma  Tadema's 
"  Reading  from  Homer." 

Leaving  his  native  Holland  in  1870,  Alma 
Tadema,  then  about  thirty-three,  went  to 
London,  which  city  has  since  been  his  home, 
and  where  he  lives  with  his  English  wife 
(herself  a  talented  artist),  in  a  superbly 
beautiful  house  built  and  decorated  from 
his  own  designs.  Elected  a  Royal  Academi- 
cian years  ago,  and  knighted  by  Queen  Vic- 
toria in  1899,  he  enjoys  many  other  honors, 
which  the  painter  of  "  Phidias  "  has  worthily 
won. 


Pausias 


PAUSIAS 

AN  English  poet,  John  Addington  Symonds, 
has  put  into  the  mouth  of  Polygnotus,  the 
Grecian  artist,  in  a  dialogue  held  with  The- 
ron  of  Agrigentum,  words  which  proclaim  that 
Art  is  Love.  Whereupon  asks  Theron  : 

"  *  Love,'  sayest  thou  ?     Love  who  from  the  clash  of 

things 

Created  order,  or  that  laughing  boy 
Who  sleeps  on  cheeks  of  maidens  and  of  youths 
Drowned  in  day-dreaming? 

Pol.  Yea,  'tis  Love  I  mean: 

But  of  his  lineage  I  would  have  you  learn 
What  poets  have  kept  hidden.     They  pretend 
Love  is  a  god,  young,  fair,  desirable, 
Fulfilled  of  sweetness  and  self-satisfied, 
Treading  the  smooth  paths  of  luxurious  spirits. 
Not  thus  I  know  him  ;  for,  methinks,  he  hungers 
Full  oftentimes  and  thirsts,  yearning  to  clasp 
The  softness,  tenderness  and  grace  he  hath  not. 
He  was  begotten,  as  old  prophets  tell  me, 
At  the  birth  feast  of  Beauty  by  a  slave, 


io         The  Great  Masters  of  Painting 

Invention,  on  a  beggar,  Poverty ; 
Therefore  he  serves  all  fair  things,  and  doth  hold 
From  his  dame  nothing,  from  his  father  wit 
Whate'er  he  lacks  to  win. 

Ther.  You  speak  in  riddles : 

Not  thus  have  Hesiod  and  blind  Homer  sung  him. 
Pol.     Nathless  'tis  true:  and  Art,  whereby  men 

mould 

Bronze  into  breathing  limbs,  or  round  these  lines 
With  hues  delusive,  or  join  verse  to  verse, 
Or  wed  close-married  sounds  in  hymn  and  chorus, 
Is  Love ;   poor  Love  that  lacks,  strong  Love  that 

conquers ; 

Love  like  a  tempest  bending  to  his  will 
The  heart  and  brain  and  sinews  of  the  maker, 
Who,  having  nought,  seeks  all,  and  hath  by  seeking. 
Look  now :  the  artist  is  not  soft  or  young, 
Supple  or  sleek  as  girls  and  athletes  are, 
But  blind  like  Homer,  like  Hephaistos  lame. 
True  child  of  Poverty,  he  feels  how  scant 
Is  the  world  round  him ;  and  he  fain  would  fashion 
A  fairer  world  for  his  free  soul  to  breathe  in. 
The  strife  between  what  is  and  what  he  covets, 
Stings  him  to  yearning;  till  his  father,  Craft, 
Cries  —  stretch  thy  hand  forth,  take   thy  fill,  and 

furnish 
Thy  craving  soul  with  all  for  which  she  clamors. 


Pausias  1 1 

Ther.     Is  it  so  easy  then  to  win  the  prize 
You  artists  play  for  ?     I,  a  king,  find  Love 
A  hard  taskmaster. 

Pol.  Ay,  and  so  is  Art. 

Many  a  painter  through  the  long  night-watches 
Till  frozen  day-spring  hath  lain  tired  with  waiting 
At  his  dream's  doorstep,  watering  the  porch 
With  tears,  suspending  rose  wreaths  from  the  lintel, 
Thrice  blest  if  but  the  form  he  woos  be  willing 
To  kiss  his  cold  lips  in  the  blush  of  morning. 
And  though  that  kiss  be  given,  even  then, 
'Mid  that  supreme  beatitude,  there  lingers 
An  aching  want  —  a  sense  of  something  missed  — 
Secluded,  cloud-involved,  and  unattained  — 
The  melody  that  neither  flute  nor  lyre, 
Through  breath  of  maidens  or  sharp  smitten  strings, 
Hath  rendered.     See  how  Art  is  like  to  Love ! 
For  lovers,  though  they  mingle,  though  close  lips 
To  lips  be  wedded,  hair  with  streaming  hair 
And  limb  with  straining  limb  be  interwoven, 
Yet  are  their  souls  divided ;  yet  their  flesh 
Aches  separate  and  unassuaged,  desiring 
What  none  shall  win,  that  supreme  touch  whereby 
Of  two  be  made  one  being.     Even  so 
In  art  we  clasp  the  shape  imperishable 
Of  beauty,  clasp  and  kiss  and  cling  and  quiver ; 
While,  far  withdrawn,  the  final  full  fruition, 


1 2         The  Great  Masters  of  Painting 

The  melting  of  our  spirit  in  the  shape 
She  woos,  still  waits :  —  a  want  no  words  can  fathom. 
Thus  Art  is  Love.     And,  prithee,  when  was  lover 
Or  artist  owner  of  fat  lands  and  rent  ? 
Poor  are  they  both  and  prodigal ;  yet  mighty ; 
And  both  must  suffer.  —  I  have  heard,  O  King, 
The  pearls  your  mistress  wears  upon  her  sleeve, 
Are  but  the  product  of  an  oyster's  pain. 
Between  its  two  great  shells  the  creature  lies 
Storing  up  strength  and  careless,  till  a  thorn 
Driven  by  deft  fingers,  probes  the  hinge  that  joins 
Well-fitting  wall  to  wall ;  the  poor  fish  pines, 
Writhes,  pours  thin  ichor  forth,  and  well-nigh  drains 
His  substance  :  when  at  last  the  wound  is  healed, 
A  pearl  lurks  glistening  in  the  pierced  shell. 
See  now  your  artist :  were  there  no  quick  pain, 
How  should  the  life-blood  of  his  heart  be  given 
To  make  those  pearls  called  poems,  pictures,  statues  ? 
Ther.     Are  lovers  oysters  then  as  well  as  artists  ? 
Nay,  prithee,  brook  the  jest !     I  take  your  meaning." 

Pausias,  an  eminent  painter  who  flourished 
nearly  coeval  with  Polygnotus,  lived  and 
worked  in  Sicyon,  the  capital  of  the  most 
ancient  kingdom  of  Greece,  several  hundred 
years  before  our  era.  He  is  said  to  have 


Pausias  1 3 

become  enamored  of  Glycera,  a  beautiful 
maiden  of  Sicyon,  while  painting  a  picture  of 
her  occupied  in  making  garlands  of  flowers  : 

"...  herself  a  fairer  flower." 

Human  nature  being  always  the  same,  it 
is  not  strange  that,  from  the  time  of  Pausias 
to  our  own  day,  instances  of  artists  who  fell 
in  love  with  their  fair  sitters  should  be  far 
from  uncommon. 

We  are  told  that  Filippo  Lippi,  the  Flor- 
entine painter,  while  at  work  in  the  convent 
of  Sta.  Margharita  at  Prato,  conceived  an 
ardent  passion  for  a  young  novice,  Lucrezia 
Buti,  whose  fair  features  were  serving  him 
as  a  model  for  the  face  of  a  Madonna  he 
was  limning,  and  carried  her  off  with  him. 

A  still  greater  artist,  — one  of  the  most 
illustrious,  indeed,  of  all,  —  Leonardo  da 
Vinci,  is  credited  by  some  historians  of  art 
with  a  deep  and  lasting  love  for  Monna  Lisa, 
the  beautiful  Florentine,  whose  marvellous 


14         The  Great  Masters  of  Painting 

portrait  (painted  for  the  lady's  husband, 
never  delivered  to  him)  enriches  the  Louvre. 
It  is  certain  that  Leonardo,  like  Michael 
Angelo,  never  married.  Was  it  because  the 
woman  he  adored  was  wedded  to  another  ? 

Passing  from  the  time  of  the  Renaissance 
to  our  own  day,  we  are  reminded  of  the 
painter-poet,  Dante  Gabriel  Rossetti.  In 
1851  he  became  acquainted  with  a  beautiful 
girl,  Miss  Elizabeth  Siddall,  who  was  after- 
ward the  model  for  some  of  his  most  famous 
pictures,  and  whose  type  of  face  he  never 
ceased  to  reproduce.  The  painter  and  his 
model  became  engaged,  and,  in  1860,  were 
married,  but  their  life  together  was  destined 
to  be  brief,  as  Mrs.  Rossetti  died  early  in 
1862,  and  her  grief-stricken  husband  buried 
his  unpublished  poems  in  her  grave. 


Cimabue  1 5 


CIMABUE 

WHEN  the  late  Lord  Leighton  was  about 
eighteen  years  old,  he  painted  a  picture  of 
Cimabue  finding  Giotto  at  the  moment  when 
the  young  shepherd  was  busy  drawing  one  of 
his  flock  with  a  sharp  stone  on  a  smooth 
slab  of  rock. 

For  both  these  two  painters  Leighton  had 
a  great  admiration,  and  not  long  after  the 
exhibition  of  the  above-mentioned  picture,  he 
projected  his  "  Cimabue' s  Madonna  carried 
in  procession  through  the  streets  of  Flor- 
ence." Leighton  took  the  incident  of  the 
picture  from  Vasari,  who  says : 

"  Cimabue  afterward  painted  the  picture  of 
the  Virgin  for  the  church  of  Santa  Maria 
Novella,  where  it  is  suspended  on  high,  be- 
tween the  chapel  of  the  Rucellai  family  and 
that  of  Bardi,  of  Vernio.  This  picture  is  of 
larger  size  than  any  figure  that  had  been 


1 6         The  Great  Masters  of  Painting 

painted  down  to  those  times ;  and  the  angels 
surrounding  it  made  it  evident  that,  although 
Cimabue  still  retained  the  Greek  manner,  he 
was,  nevertheless,  gradually  approaching  the 
mode  of  outline  and  general  method  of  mod- 
ern times.  Thus  it  happened  that  this  work 
was  an  object  of  so  much  admiration  to  the 
people  of  that  day  —  they  having  then  never 
seen  anything  better  —  that  it  was  carried  in 
solemn  procession,  with  the  sound  of  trum- 
pets and  other  festal  demonstrations,  from  the 
house  of  Cimabue  to  the  church,  he  himself 
being  highly  rewarded  and  honored  for  it." 

This  was  painted  in  Rome,  where  young 
Leighton  was  a  favorite  in  the  distinguished 
circle  of  his  countrymen,  which  included 
Thackeray  and  the  Brownings.  Thackeray, 
who  watched  the  progress  of  the  "  Cimabue," 
was  so  impressed  by  it  that  he  said  to  Mil- 
lais,  "  My  boy,  I  have  met  in  Rome  a  versa- 
tile young  dog,  called  Leighton,  who  will  one 
of  these  days  run  you  hard  for  the  president- 


Cimabue  1 7 

ship."  This  picture,  the  first  one  exhibited 
at  the  Royal  Academy  by  Leighton,  was 
shown  there  in  1855,  and  won  instant  suc- 
cess, Queen  Victoria  purchasing  it  for  .£600. 
George  Aitchison,  Leighton 's  old  friend,  and 
the  architect  of  his  beautiful  house,  says  that 
the  young  painter,  always  generous,  gave 
commissions  to  all  of  his  poor  artist  friends 
in  Rome  with  the  money  received  for  the 
"  Cimabue." 

Ruskin's  criticism  of  the  picture  is  of  in- 
terest. He  wrote:  "This  is  a  very  impor- 
tant and  very  beautiful  picture.  It  has  both 
sincerity  and  grace,  and  is  painted  on  the 
purest  principles  of  Venetian  art,  —  that  is  to 
say,  on  the  calm  acceptance  of  the  whole  of 
nature,  small  and  great,  as,  in  its  place,  de- 
serving of  faithful  rendering.  The  great 
secret  of  the  Venetians  was  their  simplicity. 
They  were  great  colorists,  not  because  they 
had  peculiar  secrets  about  oil  and  color,  but 
because  when  they  saw  a  thing  red  they 


1 8         The  Great  Masters  of  Painting 

painted  it  red,  and  when  they  saw  it  dis- 
tinctly they  painted  it  distinctly.  In  all  Paul 
Veronese's  pictures  the  lace  borders  of  the 
table-cloths  or  fringes  of  the  dresses  are 
painted  with  just  as  much  care  as  the  faces 
of  the  principal  figures ;  and  the  reader  may 
rest  assured  that  in  all  great  art  it  is  so. 
Everything  in  it  is  done  as  well  as  it  can  be 
done.  Thus,  in  the  picture  before  us,  in  the 
background  is  the  church  of  San  Miniato, 
strictly  accurate  in  detail ;  on  the  top  of  the 
wall  are  oleanders  and  pinks,  as  carefully 
painted  as  the  church ;  the  architecture  of 
the  shrine  on  the  wall  is  well  studied  from 
thirteenth-century  Gothic,  and  painted  with 
as  much  care  as  the  pinks ;  the  dresses  of 
the  figures,  very  beautifully  designed,  are 
painted  with  as  much  care  as  the  faces ;  that 
is  to  say,  all  things  throughout  with  as  much 
care  as  the  painter  could  bestow.  The  paint- 
ing before  us  has  been  objected  to  because 
it  seems  broken  to  bits.  Precisely  the  same 


Cimabue  19 

objection  would  hold,  and  in  very  nearly  the 
same  degree,  against  the  best  work  of  the 
Venetians.  All  faithful  colorists'  work  in 
figure-painting  has  a  look  of  sharp  separation 
between  part  and  part.  Although,  however, 
in  common  with  all  other  work  of  its  class, 
it  is  marked  by  these  sharp  divisions,  there 
is  no  confusion  in  its  arrangement.  The 
principal  figure  is  nobly  principal,  not  by 
extraordinary  light,  but  by  its  own  pure 
whiteness,  and  both  the  master  and  young 
Giotto  attract  full  regard  by  distinction  of 
form  and  face.  The  features  of  the  boy  are 
carefully  studied,  and  are,  indeed,  what,  from 
the  existing  portraits  of  him,  we  know  those 
of  Giotto  must  have  been  in  his  youth. 

"  The  background  of  Cimabue's  '  Madonna ' 
represents  the  hills  of  Florence,  and  in  front 
of  them  stretches  a  wall,  which  serves  to 
throw  into  relief  the  procession  passing  be- 
fore it.  In  the  left-hand  corner  (as  we  look 
at  it)  is  a  group  of  Florentines  of  all  ages, 


2O         The  Great  Masters  of  Painting 

dressed  in  colors  sufficiently  subdued:  not 
to  distract  the  eye  from  the  central  and  im- 
portant part  of  the  picture.  Behind  them 
walks  Cimabue  himself,  clad  in  white,  with  a 
wreath  surmounting  the  curious  kind  of  white 
peaked  cap  then  worn,  and  leading  by  the 
hand  his  pupil  Giotto,  who,  we  cannot  help 
thinking,  must  have  looked  very  young  for 
his  years.  The  boy,  with  a  tight-fitting  gar- 
ment of  dark  purple,  does  not  seem  to  appre- 
ciate the  post  of  honor  that  he  holds,  for 
he  is  hanging  back,  as  if  he  would  fain  join 
some  kindred  spirits  in  the  crowd,  and  go  to 
play.  Behind  comes  what  we  may  call  the 
bier,  covered  in  white,  with  a  beautifully 
painted  piece  of  color,  of  which  red  is  the 
predominating  hue,  to  the  front.  This  is 
added  to  break  the  line  between  the  white 
of  the  bier  and  the  dress  of  Cimabue. 
Above  is  the  picture  of  the  Madonna,  seen, 
of  course,  sideways,  or  in  profile,  by  the 
spectator,  but  the  perspective  and  treatment 


Cimabue  2 1 

of  which  is  absolutely  perfect ;  it  hangs  a 
little  forward  from  a  gold  frame,  and  has  a 
gold  background  of  its  own.  On  this  is 
painted  the  Virgin  in  blue,  holding  in  her 
lap  the  Child,  who  is  in  red.  From  the  size 
of  the  picture,  the  angels,  who  made  such  an 
impression  on  the  Florentines,  are  not  visible. 
The  picture  is  kept  in  its  place  by  men,  who 
hold  the  cords  attached  to  it.  The  man  in 
the  front  nearest  Giotto  is  clad  in  cream 
tints,  which  blend,  on  the  one  hand,  into  the 
white  of  Cimabue,  and  on  the  other  into  the 
splendid  saffron  robes  of  the  man  next  him, 
whose  head  is  covered  with  drapery  of  a 
deeper  shade  of  orange.  The  third  man,  im- 
mediately to  the  front  of  the  bier,  is  in 
yellowy  red.  A  little  more  in  the  foreground 
stand  some  boys,  who  always  form  the 
indispensable  part  of  every  procession,  and 
near  them  a  man  in  a  gorgeous  scarlet  robe, 
with  a  loose  drapery  of  purple  over  it.  ... 
The  Madonna  is  followed  by  a  band  of  con- 


22         The  Great  Masters  of  Painting 

temporary  artists,  anxious  to  do  honor  to 
the  greatest  among  them.  Among  these  are 
Simone  Memmi,  Gaddo  Gaddi,  Nicola  Pisano, 
Buffalmacco,  and  Arnolfo  di  Lapo.  Between 
them  and  the  wall  under  the  hills  is  the 
Gonfaloniere  of  Florence,  mounted  on  a  very 
finely  painted  gray  horse,  and  clothed  in  blue 
and  scarlet,  with  an  ermine  tippet  over  his 
shoulders ;  red  vines  cluster  the  wall  above 
over  his  head,  and  the  glow  of  color  about  all 
this  part  of  the  picture  contrasts  strongly 
with  the  quiet  gray  figure  of  Dante  leaning 
against  a  tree,  and  looking  on  with  the  sar- 
donic and  wondering  gaze  of  the  man  who 
had  been  in  hell." 

Sir  Frederic  (afterward  Lord)  Leighton 
died  in  the  first  month  of  1896,  aged  sixty- 
five  years,  having  been  president  of  the  Royal 
Academy  since  1878,  and  was  succeeded  in 
that  office  by  Millais.  One  of  the  most  indus- 
trious of  painters,  Leighton  left  behind  him 
a  long  list  of  works,  from  among  which  may 


Cimabue  23 

be  selected  for  mention,  "  Dante  Going  Forth 
into  Exile,"  "The  Death  of  Brunelleschi," 
"Orpheus  and  Eurydice,"  "Wedded"  (in  the 
Art  Gallery  at  Sydney,  N.  S.  W.),  "  Summer 
Moon,"  "  Hercules  Wrestling  with  Death  for 
the  Body  of  Alcestis,"  "The  Daphnephoria," 
"  Elijah  in  the  Wilderness "  (owned  by  the 
Walker  Art  Gallery,  Liverpool) ;  "  Phryne 
at  Eleusis,"  "Captive  Andromache,"  "Cy- 
mon  and  Iphigenia,"  "  Perseus  and  Androm- 
eda," "The  Garden  of  the  Hesperides," 
and  "The  Bath  of  Psyche."  The  last- 
named  picture  belongs  to  the  British  nation, 
as  does  also  the  artist's  statue  of  "The 
Athlete  Wrestling  with  a  Python."  Leigh- 
ton's  frescoes  include  "  The  Arts  of  Peace " 
and  "  The  Arts  of  War,"  at  the  South  Ken- 
sington Museum ;  "  Phoenicians  Bartering 
with  Ancient  Britons,"  in  the  Royal  Ex- 
change ;  and  the  decorations  of  the  music- 
room  in  the  house  of  Mr.  Henry  G.  Mar- 
quand  in  New  York. 


24         The  Great  Masters  of  Painting 


FRA  ANGELICO 

UNLIKE  Cimabue,  who  lies  in  Florence,  the 
city  of  his  birth,  the  "Angelical  Painter" 
rests  in  Rome,  far  from  the  mountain  ham- 
let of  Vicchio,  where,  less  than  a  score  of 
miles  from  the  "  City  of  the  Lilies,"  he  first 
saw  the  light.  Beneath  the  high  altar  of  the 
church  of  Sta.  Maria  sopra  Minerva,  lies  the 
greatest  of  the  sisters  of  St.  Dominic  —  St. 
Catherine  of  Siena,  who  died  only  seven 
years  before  Fra  Angelico  was  born,  whom 
he  has  several  times  portrayed,  and  near  her 
tomb  he  sleeps.  The  inscription  over  his 
remains,  unlike  many  epitaphs,  does  not 
lie.  It  was  composed  by  Pope  Nicholas  V., 
for  whose  chapel  in  the  Vatican  Angelico 
painted  some  of  his  latest  and  finest 
works. 

Professor     Norton     has    thus    translated 
it: 


Fra  A  ngelico  2  5 

"  Not  mine  be  the  praise  that  I  was  as  a  second 

Apelles, 

But  that  I  gave  all  my  gains  to  thine,  O  Christ ! 
One  work  is  for  the  earth,  another  for  heaven, 
The  city,  the  Flower  of  Tuscany,  bore  me  —  John." 

But  though  buried  in  the  Eternal  City, 
"he  lives,"  as  Mrs.  Oliphant  says,  "in  Flor- 
ence, within  the  walls  he  loved,  in  the  cells 
he  filled  full  of  beauty  and  pensive  celestial 
grace,  and  which  now  are  dedicated  to  him, 
and  hold  his  memory  fresh  as  in  a  shrine." 

The  blessed  painter,  whose  life  and  art 
were  worthy  of  each  other,  is  set  before 
us  with  a  loving  touch  by  Vasari,  who  says : 

"Fra  Giovanni  Angelico  da  Fiesole  .  .  . 
was  no  less  preeminent  as  a  painter  and  mini- 
aturist than  as  a  religious.  ...  He  might,  in- 
deed, had  he  so  chosen,  have  lived  in  the  world 
in  the  greatest  comfort,  and,  beyond  what 
he  himself  already  possessed,  gained  whatso- 
ever he  wanted  more,  by  the  practice  of 
those  arts  of  which,  whilst  still  a  young 
man,  he  was  already  a  master ;  but  he  chose 


26         The  Great  Masters  of  Painting 

instead,  being  well-disposed  and  pious  by 
nature,  for  his  greater  contentment  and 
peace  of  mind,  and  above  all  for  the  salva- 
tion of  his  soul,  to  enter  the  order  of 
Preachers.  .  .  .  Rightly,  indeed,  was  he  called 
'Angelico,'  for  he  gave  his  whole  life  to 
God's  service,  and  to  the  doing  of  good  works 
for  mankind  and  for  his  neighbor.  .  .  .  He 
was  entirely  free  from  guile,  and  holy  in 
all  his  acts.  .  .  .  He  kept  himself  unspotted 
from  the  world,  and  living  in  purity  and 
holiness,  he  was  so  much  the  friend  of  the 
poor,  that  I  think  his  soul  is  now  in  heaven. 
"He  labored  assiduously  at  painting,  but 
he  never  cared  to  work  at  any  but  sacred 
subjects.  Rich,  indeed,  he  might  have  been, 
yet  for  riches  he  took  no  thought.  He  was 
wont  to  say  that  true  riches  consist  in  being 
content  with  little.  He  might  have  borne 
rule  over  many,  but  he  did  not  choose  to  do 
so,  believing  that  he  who  obeys  has  fewer 
cares,  and  is  less  likely  to  go  astray.  It  was 


Fra  Angelica  27 

in  his  power,  too,  to  have  held  high  place, 
both  within  his  order  and  without  it ;  but 
he  cared  nothing  for  such  honors,  affirming 
that  he  sought  no  other  dignity  than  the 
avoidance  of  hell  and  the  attainment  of 
paradise.  And,  in  truth,  what  dignity  can 
compare  with  that  which  not  only  religious 
but  all  men  ought  to  strive  after,  namely, 
that  which  is  to  be  found  in  God  alone  and 
in  a  virtuous  order  of  life.  .  .  . 

"  Fra  Angelico  was  of  a  most  humane  and 
temperate  disposition,  and  living  in  chastity, 
he  did  not  become  entangled  in  the  world's 
snares.  In  fact,  he  used  often  to  say  that 
he  who  practised  art  had  need  of  quiet,  and 
of  a  life  free  from  care,  and  that  he  who  had 
to  do  with  the  things  of  Christ  ought  to  live 
with  Christ.  He  was  never  seen  to  show 
anger  toward  any  of  his  brethren,  .  .  .  and 
when  he  did  admonish  a  friend,  he  was  accus- 
tomed to  do  so  gently  and  with  a  smiling 
face.  And  to  those  who  wished  him  to  work 


28         The  Great  Masters  of  Painting 

for  them,  he  would  reply  with  the  utmost 
good-will,  that  if  they  could  come  to  terms 
with  the  prior,  he  would  not  fail  them.  In  a 
word,  this  friar,  who  can  never  be  too  much 
praised,  was  most  humble  and  modest  in 
every  word  and  work,  and  in  his  pictures 
showed  both  genius  and  piety.  The  saints 
that  he  painted  have  more  of  the  aspect  and 
character  of  saintship  than  any  others. 

"  It  was  his  custom  never  to  retouch  or 
repaint  any  of  his  works,  but  to  leave  them 
always  just  as  they  were  when  finished  the 
first  time ;  for  he  believed,  as  he  himself 
said,  that  such  was  the  will  of  God.  It  is 
said,  indeed,  that  Fra  Giovanni  never  took  a 
brush  in  his  hand  until  he  had  first  offered 
a  prayer;  nor  did  he  paint  a  'Crucifixion' 
without  tears  streaming  down  his  cheeks. 
And  both  in  the  faces  and  attitudes  of  his 
figures  it  is  easy  to  find  proof  of  his  sincere 
and  deep  devotion  to  the  religion  of  Christ.'* 

Three  centuries  after  this  tender  tribute 


Fra  Angelica  29 

was  published,  a  French  Dominican,  Edmund 
Cartier,  wrote  a  reverent  and  highly  sym- 
pathetic life  of  Fra  Angelico  (since  trans- 
lated into  English),  which  is  of  great  interest 
and  value.  In  it  Cartier  quotes  some  of 
the  praises  showered  upon  the  painter-monk, 
among  which  are  mentioned  the  poetical  trib- 
ute of  the  painter  Giovanni  Santi,  Raphael's 
father;  together  with  encomiums  from  the 
pens  of  the  Jesuit  Lanzi,  of  August  Schlegel, 
of  Seroux  d'Agincourt,  of  Rio,  and  of  Monta- 
lembert.  Here  is  one  of  Cartier 's  own  eulo- 
gies of  the  "  Angelical  Painter."  He  says  : 
"The  talent  of  Beato  Angelico  was  the 
ornament  of  his  virtue.  He  knew  not  the 
ambition  which  lengthens  the  watchings  of 
the  artist,  and  makes  him  purchase  success 
so  painfully.  To  him  labor  was  without 
sorrow.  He  cultivated  painting  as  Adam  did 
the  earthly  paradise ;  his  pictures  were  the 
flowers  God  produced  in  his  soul,  and  he  let 
them  grow  in  all  their  freedom,  fearing  to 


30         The  Great  Masters  of  Painting 

mar  the  Master's  work  by  a  knowing  culture. 
Vasari  tells  us  he  never  would  alter  his  com- 
positions, because  he  looked  on  his  inspirations 
as  favors  from  heaven.  The  least  desire  of 
glory  never  disturbed  his  heart :  he  would 
make  God  praised.  To  what  good  shall  we 
subscribe  his  works  ?  Should  a  mirror  arro- 
gate to  itself  the  rays  it  reflects  ?  He  did  not 
intend  to  make  new  compositions.  When  an 
image  satisfied  his  piety,  why  should  he  not 
have  repeated  it,  like  the  prayers  we  love  to 
say  again  ?  Why  not  imitate  the  old  masters 
when  we  have  no  hope  to  surpass  them  ? 
Beato  Angelico  thought  only  of  loving  our 
Lord  and  ,the  saints,  and  of  making  them 
loved.  He  sought  the  kingdom  of  heaven 
before  all,  and  the  rest  was  added  unto  him." 
Cartier  would  have  found  no  difficulty  in 
believing  the  legend,  illustrated  in  Maignan's 
picture,  which  declares  that  the  works  of  Fra 
Angelico  often  received  miraculous  touches 
from  heavenly  visitants  during  the  painter's 


Hugo  Van  der  Goes  31 

absence,  or  when,  weary  from  his  labor,  he 
fell  asleep  at  his  well-loved  task.  We  may  be 
pardoned  for  thinking  M.  Maignan's  figure  of 
the  sleeping  Angelico  more  impressive  than 
that  of  the  angel,  the  model  for  whom  the 
artist  would  have  done  well  to  take  from  some 
work  of  the  blessed  painter  of  Fiesole. 

HUGO  VAN  DER  GOES 

IN  the  Hospital  of  Santa  Maria  Nuova  at 
Florence,  founded  by  Folco  Portinari,  the 
father  of  Dante's  Beatrice,  is  preserved  a 
large  altar-piece  by  Hugo  Van  der  Goes. 

Tommaso  Portinari,  agent  at  Bruges  for  the 
house  of  the  Medici  and  the  most  influential 
foreigner  in  that  Flemish  trading  city,  cher- 
ished a  warm  affection  for  his  native  Florence, 
and,  among  other  generous  acts,  presented  this 
votive  picture  to  the  hospital.  It  is  in  three 
sections,  the  central  panel  representing  the 
adoration  of  the  infant  Christ  by  the  Virgin 


32         The  Great  Masters  of  Painting 

Mary,  Joseph,  and  three  shepherds,  and  a 
numerous  company  of  angels.  The  left  wing 
of  the  picture  shows  the  donor,  behind  whom 
are  his  two  boys,  with  St.  Anthony  and  St. 
Thomas;  and  the  right  wing  presents  his 
wife  and  daughter  with  their  patron  saints, 
Margaret  and  Magdalen. 

Of  all  the  works  produced  by  this  able  but 
unfamiliar  painter,  the  St.  Maria  Nuova  altar- 
piece,  which  is  mentioned  by  Vasari,  is  the 
only  authenticated  one  remaining. 

Con  way  says  of  this  triptych  : 

"  This  picture  of  Master  Hugo's  would  be  of 
untold  value  for  one  thing  alone,  even  if  it 
possessed  no  other  virtues :  it  is  the  first 
picture  that  really  makes  us  acquainted  with 
the  mediaeval  peasantry.  Nothing  is  more 
obvious  than  that  the  three  shepherds  are 
drawn  from  life.  They  are  no  ideal  shepherds  ; 
their  horny  hands,  rough  features,  and  gaping 
mouths,  are  proofs  of  a  perfect  veracity.  The 
three  men  in  this  Nativity,  or  at  all  events  two 


Hugo  Van  der  Goes  33 

of  them,  are  not  creations  issuing  from  the 
moral  consciousness  of  any  one.  They  are 
reflections  of  actual  persons.  Their  bent 
figures  tell  of  their  laboring  battle  with  the 
earth.  Their  hardened  faces  have  been 
beaten  into  that  rugged  form  by  nights  of 
exposure,  frost,  and  storm.  Whilst  the 
world  was  going  along  in  its  noisy  fashion 
with  wars  and  revolutions,  setting  up  of 
kings,  political  intrigues,  and  tremblings  of 
hope  and  fear  in  the  hearts  of  conspicuous 
but  now  for  the  most  part  forgotten  men, 
peasants  such  as  these  were  the  real  heat 
that  kept  the  whole  surface  bubbling  on  the 
go.  But  for  their  careless  and  continuous 
labor,  kings  and  feudal  systems  would  have 
faded  in  a  few  days.  Yet  they  are  as  un- 
recorded and  unobserved  (expect  for  some 
tyrannous  statute  of  laborers  or  another)  as  if 
the  fine  gentry,  the  monks,  and  the  mer- 
chants had  really  been  the  life  at  the  heart 
of  the  whole  body  politic.  Among  the  mul- 


34         The  Great  Masters  of  Painting 

titude  of  Golden  Fleeced  heroes,  Hansaatic 
merchants,  lords,  counts,  dukes,  and  popes, 
whose  likenesses  we  possess,  whose  sayings 
we  can  know  if  we  care  to  hunt  them  up, 
whose  manner  of  living  is  recorded  in  minute 
detail,  these  three  old  shepherds  are  the  only 
representatives  of  the  far  larger  and  more 
important  body  of  silent  sufferers  and  silent 
workers  who  kept  the  world  a-going. " 

Van  der  Goes,  probably  born  at  Ghent 
about  1405,  and  a  pupil  of  the  Van  Eycks,  ap- 
pears to  have  labored  mostly  in  that  city  and 
at  Bruges.  At  one  time  in  his  life  he  was 
afflicted  with  attacks  of  insanity,  —  caused, 
according  to  one  account,  by  an  unrequited 
love,  according  to  another,  by  religious  melan- 
choly, —  and  retired  to  a  monastery  in  or  near 
Brussels.  One  of  his  fellow  monks  has  left 
the  following  account  of  this  episode  in  the 
artist's  life. 

He  says :  "  I  was  a  novice  when  Van  der 
Goes  entered  the  convent.  He  was  so  famous 


Hugo  Van  der  Goes  35 

as  a  painter  that  men  said  his  like  was  not  to 
be  found  this  side  of  the  Alps.  In  his  worldly 
days  he  did  not  belong  to  the  upper  classes ; 
nevertheless,  after  his  reception  into  the  con- 
vent, and  during  his  novitiate,  the  prior  per- 
mitted him  many  relaxations  more  suggestive 
of  worldly  pleasure  than  of  penance  and 
humiliation,  and  thus  awakened  jealousy  in 
many  of  our  brothers.  Frequently  noble 
lords,  and  amongst  others  the  Archduke 
Maximilian,  came  to  visit  him  and  admire  his 
pictures.  At  their  request  he  received  per- 
mission to  remain  and  dine  with  them  in  the 
guest-chamber.  He  was  often  cast  down  by 
attacks  of  melancholy,  especially  when  he 
thought  of  the  number  of  works  he  still  had 
to  finish ;  his  love  of  wine,  however,  was  his 
greatest  enemy,  and  for  that  at  the  stranger's 
table  there  was  no  restraint.  In  the  fifth  or 
sixth  year  after  he  had  taken  the  habit,  he 
undertook  a  journey  to  Cologne  with  his 
brother  Nicolas  and  others.  On  his  return 


36         The  Great  Masters  of  Painting 

journey  he  had  such  an  attack  of  melancjioly 
that  he  would  have  laid  violent  hands  on  him- 
self had  he  not  been  forcibly  restrained  by  his 
friends.  They  brought  him  under  restraint 
to  Brussels,  and  so  back  to  the  convent. 
The  prior  was  called  in,  and  he  sought  by  the 
sounds  of  music  to  lessen  Hugo's  passion. 
For  a  long  time  all  was  useless ;  he  suffered 
under  the  dread  that  he  was  a  son  of  dam- 
nation. At  length  his  condition  improved. 
Thenceforward  of  his  own  will  he  gave  up  the 
habit  of  visiting  the  guest-chamber  and  took 
his  meals  with  the  lay  brothers." 

Hugo  died  in  1482,  his  insanity  having 
disappeared  in  the  meantime. 

The  picture  of  the  mad  painter  which  we 
reproduce  was  painted  by  Emile  Wauters  in 
1872,  and  exhibited  at  the  Brussels  Salon, 
where  it  made  an  immediate  sensation,  and 
was  purchased  by  the  State  for  the  Brussels 
museum. 

Wauters,  who  is  a   pupil  of  Portaels  and 


Hugo  Van  der  Goes  37 

Gerome,  was  born  at  Brussels  in  1846,  and 
has  devoted  himself  to  the  painting  of  por- 
traits and  of  history.  The  museum  of  Liege 
possesses  his  "  Mary  of  Burgundy  entreating 
the  sheriffs  of  Ghent  to  pardon  her  council- 
lors ; "  while  on  the  staircase  of  the  Brussels 
Hotel  de  Ville  may  be  seen  his  "Mary  of 
Burgundy  swearing  to  respect  the  commer- 
cial rights  of  Brussels,  1477,"  and  "The 
armed  citizens  of  Brussels  demanding  the 
charter  from  Duke  John  IV.  of  Brabant." 
An  enormous  panorama  of  "Cairo  and  the 
Banks  of  the  Nile,"  "  Sobieski  and  his  Staff 
at  the  Siege  of  Vienna,"  Serpent-charmers 
of  Sokko,"  "The  Battle  of  Hastings,"  and 
many  other  works,  attest  the  talent  and  the 
industry  of  Wauters,  whose  extraordinary 
gifts  have  won  him  a  multiplicity  of  medals 
and  honors  of  various  kinds. 


38         The  Great  Masters  of  Painting 


LEONARDO   DA  VINCI 

Louis  XII.  of  France,  son  of  the  poet 
Charles  of  Orleans,  was  a  friend  of  art  and 
letters,  and  his  viceroy  in  Milan,  Charles 
d'Amboise,  a  highly  cultured  nobleman  who 
greatly  admired  the  genius  of  Leonardo, 
exerted  his  powerful  influence  with  the 
French  king  in  favor  of  the  painter  of 
"  The  Last  Supper." 

Early,  therefore,  in  1507,  we  find  Louis 
sending  this  letter,  addressed  "  To  our  very 
dear  and  close  friends,  allies,  and  confeder- 
ates, the  priors,  and  perpetual  Gonfalioniere 
of  the  Signory  of  Florence." 

"Louis,  by  the  grace  of  God  King  of 
France,  Duke  of  Milan,  Lord  of  Genoa,  etc. 
Very  dear  and  close  friends  :  —  As  we  have 
need  of  Master  Leonardo  da  Vinci,  painter 


Leonardo  da  Vinci  39 

to  your  city  of  Florence,  and  intend  to  make 
him  do  something  for  us  with  his  own  hand, 
and  as  we  shall  soon,  God  helping  us,  be  in 
Milan,  we  beg  you,  as  affectionately  as  we 
can,  to  be  good  enough  to  allow  the  said 
Leonardo  to  work  for  us  such  a  time  as  may 
enable  him  to  carry  out  the  work  we  intend 
him  to  do.  And  as  soon  as  you  receive 
these  letters  (we  beg  you)  write  to  him,  and 
direct  that  he  shall  not  leave  Milan  until  we 
arrive  there.  While  he  is  awaiting  us  we 
shall  let  him  know  what  it  is  that  we  desire 
him  to  do,  but  meanwhile  write  to  him  in 
such  fashion  that  he  shall  by  no  means  leave 
the  said  city  before  our  arrival.  I  have 
already  urged  your  ambassador  to  write  to 
you  in  the  same  sense.  You  will  do  us  a 
great  pleasure  in  acting  as  we  desire.  Dear 
and  close  friends,  may  our  Lord  have  you 
in  his  keeping.  Written  from  Blois,  the 
1 4th  day  of  January,  1507. 

"Louis." 


40         The  Great  Masters  of  Painting 

A  few  months  after  the  date  of  this  mis- 
sive, Louis  XII.  made  a  triumphal  entry  into 
Milan,  and  there  seems  reason  to  believe 
that  Leonardo  had  a  share  in  devising  some 
part  of  the  decorations  prepared  for  the  occa- 
sion. When,  two  years  later,  Louis  again 
entered  the  capital  of  Lombardy,  it  is  said 
that  Leonardo  was  appointed  master  of  the 
ceremonies. 

There  is  no  doubt  that  much  pressure 
was  brought  to  bear  upon  the  artist  to  in- 
duce him  to  take  up  his  abode  in  France, 
but,  although  some  writers  incline  to  assert 
that  he  did  sojourn  there  sometime  between 
1507  and  1510,  the  balance  of  testimony  is 
against  this  supposition. 

We  know  that  he  undertook  certain  tasks, 
both  artistic  and  scientific,  for  Louis  and  for 
his  representative,  the  magnificent  Charles 
d'Amboise.  The  latter,  however,  died  in 
1511  at  a  comparatively  early  age,  and  at  the 
end  of  the  following  year  the  French  were 


Leonardo  da  Vinci  41 

forced  to  abandon  Milan.  In  1513  Leonardo 
left  that  city  for  Rome  in  the  suite  of  Giu- 
liano  de'  Medici,  brother  of  Pope  Leo  X.,  and 
while  sojourning  in  the  Eternal  City  received 
several  commissions  from  the  Pontiff.  Louis 
XII.  died  in  1515,  and  among  those  who 
greeted  his  successor,  Francis  I.,  on  his  entry 
into  Milan  as  a  conqueror  after  the  victory 
of  Marignano,  Leonardo  appears  to  have 
found  a  place.  Nor  did  the  painter  ever 
leave  his  latest  protector. 

"Francis  I.,"  says  Miintz,  "showed  his 
desire  to  honor  the  greatness  of  the  master 
by  bestowing  a  princely  revenue  upon  him, 
—  700  crowns,  about  .£1,400.  This  fact  is 
attested  by  Benvenuto  Cellini,  who  boasted, 
at  a  later  date,  that  he  had  been  granted  a 
like  sum.  But  let  us  leave  the  great  gold- 
smith and  writer  to  speak  for  himself.  After 
relating  that  he  has  acquired  a  copy  of 
Leonardo's  treatise  on  the  three  great  arts, 
he  adds  that,  "as  that  great  man's  genius 


42         The  Great  Masters  of  Painting 

was  as  vast  as  it  was  varied,  and  as  he  hatiT  a 
certain  acquaintance  with  Greek  and  Latin 
literature,  King  Francis,  who  was  violently 
enamored  of  his  great  talents,  took  so  great 
a  delight  in  hearing  him  argue,  that  he  only 
parted  from  him  for  a  few  days  in  the  year, 
thus  preventing  him  from  putting  the  splen- 
did studies,  which  he  had  carried  on  with  so 
much  discipline,  to  actual  use.  I  must  not 
fail  to  repeat  the  words  concerning  him 
which  I  heard  from  the  king's  own  lips, 
when  he  spoke  to  me,  in  the  presence  of 
the  Cardinal  of  Ferrara,  the  Cardinal  of  Lor- 
raine, and  the  King  of  Navarre.  He  af- 
firmed that  never  any  man  had  come  into  the 
world  who  knew  so  much  as  Leonardo,  and 
that  not  only  in  matters  of  sculpture,  paint- 
ing, and  architecture,  for,  in  addition,  he  was 
a  great  philosopher." 

The  residence  assigned  to  Leonardo  was 
in  the  town  of  Amboise,  the  cradle  of  the 
first  colony  of  artists  summoned  to  France 


Leonardo  da  Vinci  43 

by  Charles  VIII.,  and  the  favorite  dwelling- 
place  of  Francis  I.  A  great  part  of  the 
youth  of  Francis  had  been  spent  there; 
there,  soon  after  his  accession,  he  had 
celebrated  the  betrothal  of  Rene*e  de  Mont- 
pensier  and  the  Duke  of  Lorraine ;  and 
there  three  of  his  own  children  had  been 
born. 

To  the  great  Italian  artist  was  given  the 
little  manor-house  of  Cloux,  standing  between 
the  castle  and  the  town  of  Amboise.  This 
manor-house,  now  known  under  the  name  of 
Clos-Luce,  has  lately  been  restored.  Anatole 
de  Montaiglon  says  of  it :  "  Leonardo  has 
leaned  on  the  window-sills  of  the  two  stories, 
his  feet  have  trodden  the  staircase,  his  step 
has  passed  through  all  the  eight  large  rooms 
of  which  the  dwelling  is  composed;  and  in 
the  quiet  house,  which  has  not  altered,  exter- 
nally at  least,  since  those  days,  we  can  imag- 
ine we  see  him  yet."  The  room  in  which 
Leonardo  breathed  his  last  is  said  to  be  still 


44         The  Great  Masters  of  Painting 

*&-*' 

existing  with  its  raftered  ceiling  and  its 
huge  hearth. 

He  often  received  visits  from  the  great  per- 
sonages who  frequented  the  court  of  Francis 
I.  In  the  autumn  of  1516  the  Cardinal  of 
Aragon  visited  the  painter,  attended  by  his 
retinue.  The  cardinal's  secretary,  Antonio 
di  Beatis,  tells  us  that  Leonardo  showed  the 
prelate  three  paintings :  a  female  portrait 
executed  for  Giuliano  de'  Medici,  a  young  St. 
John  the  Baptist,  and  a  Madonna  with  the 
Child  on  the  lap  of  St.  Anne.  "Unfortu- 
nately," adds  the  secretary,  "a  sort  of  par- 
alysis, which  has  affected  his  right  hand,  for- 
bids our  expecting  more  good  work  from  him." 

Leonardo,  however,  brought  his  abilities  as 
an  engineer  to  the  service  of  Francis,  and  we 
are  told  of  the  plan  which  he  made  for  dig- 
ging a  canal  near  Romorantin,  to  be  used 
both  for  irrigation  and  navigation,  in  addition 
to  other  works. 

The  failing  condition  of  his  health  at  this 


Leonardo  da  Vinci  45 

time  suggested  to  the  master  the  advisability 
of  making  his  last  arrangements,  and  a  week 
before  his  death  a  notary  of  Amboise  was 
sent  for,  and  to  him  Leonardo  dictated  his 
will.  The  original  document  is  lost,  but  a 
copy  is  in  existence.  It  provides  that  the 
body  of  the  testator  be  interred  in  the  church 
of  St.  Florentin  at  Amboise,  also  for  the  cele- 
bration of  numerous  masses,  and  for  certain 
gifts  to  the  poor  of  the  neighborhood.  Leo- 
nardo's friend  and  pupil,  Francesco  Melzi,  a 
young  Milanese  of  noble  birth,  who  had  accom- 
panied the  painter  to  France,  was  made  sole 
executor  and  given  certain  sums  of  money  and 
all  of  the  artist's  books,  drawings,  manuscripts, 
and  instruments.  This  priceless  legacy,  thus, 
luckily,  came  into  the  hands  of  one  who 
rightly  appreciated  its  value  to  the  world, 
which  owes  to  Melzi  the  preservation  of 
these  precious  relics  of  Leonardo.  Other 
bequests  were  made  to  the  brothers  of  the 
artist  and  to  some  old  servants. 


46        The  Great  Masters  of  Painting 

Vasari  says  :  "  Leonardo,  growing  old^iell 
sick  for  many  months,  and  seeing  death  draw 
near,  he  desired  to  be  carefully  instructed 
concerning  the  things  of  our  good  and  holy 
Christian  and  Catholic  religion,  and  having 
made  his  confession  and  repented  with  many 
tears,  he  insisted,  though  he  could  not  stand 
upright,  and  had  to  be  supported  in  the  arms 
of  his  friends  and  servants,  on  leaving  his  bed 
to  receive  the  most  blessed  sacrament.  The 
king,  who  often  went  to  see  him  in  the  most 
friendly  fashion,  arrived  at  this  moment ; 
Leonardo,  out  of  respect,  raised  himself  up 
in  his  bed,  explained  the  nature  and  changes 
of  his  illness  to  him,  and  told  him,  further, 
how  much  he  had  offended  God  and  men  by 
not  using  his  talent  as  he  should  have  done. 
Just  at  this  moment  he  was  seized  with  a 
spasm,  the  forerunner  of  death;  the  king 
rose  from  his  seat  and  took  hold  of  his  head 
to  help  him,  and  prove  his  favor  to  him,  so 
as  to  comfort  him  in  his  suffering ;  but  this 


Leonardo  da  Vinci  47 

divine  spirit,  recognizing  that  he  could  never 
attain  a  greater  honor,  expired  in  the  king's 
arms,  at  the  age  of  sixty-seven  years,  on  May 

2,    1519." 

Much  doubt  has  been  cast  in  later  days 
upon  this  anecdote,  which  has  been  made  the 
subject  of  several  pictures  by  French  artists, 
but  it  cannot  be  said  to  be  absolutely  dis- 
proved. 

"Thus  died,  full  of  years  and  glory,  but 
far  from  his  own  land,  the  mighty  genius  who 
had  carried  the  art  of  painting  to  its  highest 
perfection,  and  had  penetrated  farther  into 
the  mysteries  of  nature  than  any  mortal  since 
the  days  of  Epicurus  and  Aristotle." 

Leonardo  was  buried  in  the  cloister  of 
the  church  of  St.  Florentin,  since  entirely 
demolished. 

The  life  of  the  distinguished  painter  of 
the  "Death  of  Leonardo  da  Vinci"  affords 
a  remarkable  instance  of  perseverance  and  of 
industry  continued  through  extreme  old  age. 


48         The  Great  Masters  of  Painting 

For  Ingres  was  eighty-six  when  death  ^over- 
took him,  in  Paris,  on  January  14,  1867.  A 
pupil  of  David,  during  his  long  stay  in  Rome, 
both  as  a  student  and  as  director  of  the 
French  school  there,  he  was  much  influenced 
by  the  works  of  Raphael.  He  became  the 
recognized  leader  of  those  who  followed  the 
classic  school  in  painting  as  opposed  to 
the  romantic,  and  at  the  Universal  Exhibi- 
tion in  Paris,  in  1855,  ne  was  awarded  a 
gold  medal,  though  his  chief  rival,  Delacroix, 
received  a  like  honor. 

The  Cathedral  of  Montauban,  his  native 
town,  contains  Ingres's  "Vow  of  Louis 
XIII. ; "  the  Louvre  holds  his  "  Apotheosis 
of  Homer,"  his  "Joan  of  Arc  at  the  Corona- 
tion of  Charles  VII.,"  his  "  Roger  Delivering 
Angelica,"  his  "  CEdipus  Explaining  the  Rid- 
dle of  the  Sphinx,"  and  his  "La  Source" 
(painted  at  seventy-five),  in  addition  to  sev- 
eral portraits,  including  one  of  the  composer, 
Cherubini.  From  a  long  list  of  other  pic- 


Raphael  49 

tures,  we  will  select  for  mention  these  titles : 
"The  Martyrdom  of  St.  Symphorien,"  in 
Autun  Cathedral ;  "  The  Sleep  of  Ossian " 
and  "The  Triumph  of  Romulus,"  both  in 
the  Quirinal  Palace  at  Rome ;  "  Stratonice," 
"Francesca  da  Rimini,"  "Raphael  and  the 
Fornarina,"  "Virgil  Reading  the  ^Eneid  to 
Augustus  and  Octavia,"  the  "Virgin  of  the 
Host,"  the  "  Sistine  Chapel,"  and  the  "  Oda- 
lisque with  her  Slave/* 

RAPHAEL 

THE  date  of  Raphael's  arrival  in  Rome, 
and  who  it  was  that  summoned  him  thither, 
are  alike  unknown.  It  was  probably  early 
in  1509  when  he  began  his  work  in  the 
Eternal  City. 

Raphael  was  then  about  twenty-six  years 
of  age,  and  for  so  young  an  artist  had  pro- 
duced a  large  number  of  important  works. 
Already  his  hand  had  called  into  existence 


50         The  Great  Masters  of  Painting 

the  "  Sposalizio,"  now  in  the  Brera,  at  Milan ; 
the  Ansidei  Madonna  of  the  National  Gal- 
lery, the  "  Entombment,"  which  hangs  in  the 
Borghese  Gallery,  the  "  St.  Catherine,"  also  in 
the  National  Gallery,  the  "  Knight's  Dream," 
the  "  Three  Graces,"  the  "  St.  Michael,"  and 
two  pictures  of  St.  George.  Many  lovely 
Madonnas,  also,  his  graceful  brush  had  traced, 
—  among  them,  the  Solly,  the  Conestabile, 
the  Gran  Duca,  the  Cowper,  the  Orleans,  the 
Cardellino,  and  the  Bridgewater,  nor  does 
this  list  give  all. 

Whoever  it  might  have  been  that  influenced 
Raphael  to  take  up  his  abode  in  Rome,  it  was 
the  Pope,  Julius  II.  who  there  became  his 
great  patron,  as  he  was  already  the  patron 
of  Bramante  and  of  Michael  Angelo.  Born 
in  1441  and  elevated  to  the  pontificate  in 
1503,  Julius,  at  the  time  of  Raphael's  advent 
at  Rome,  was  nearing  his  seventieth  year, 
but  his  energy  showed  no  symptoms  of  de- 
cay, and  his  grand  projects  for  the  building 


Raphael  5 1 

of  St.  Peter's,  and  the  enlargement  of  the 
Vatican,  were  pushed  forward  with  never 
ceasing  vigor. 

To  Raphael,  Julius  assigned  the  decoration 
of  those  four  rooms  in  the  palace  of  the 
Vatican  which  are  now  known  as  the  Stanze 
of  Raphael,  and  where  are  enshrined  those 
creations  of  the  master's  pencil  which  un- 
questionably rank  foremost  among  his  works, 
and  are  rivalled  only  by  the  mighty  frescoes 
which  the  genius  of  Michael  Angelo  spread 
upon  the  ceiling  of  the  Sistine  Chapel. 

Raphael  and  Michael  Angelo  labored 
near  each  other  at  Rome  for  a  number  of 
years,  yet  never  seem  to  have  been  on  terms 
of  much  intimacy.  Each  admired  the  genius 
of  the  other,  but  such  intercourse  as  took 
place  between  them  hardly  merited  the  name 
of  friendship.  Symonds  says  :  "  If  they  did 
not  understand  one  another  and  make  friends, 
this  was  due  to  the  different  conceptions  they 
were  framed  to  take  of  life,  the  one  being 


52         The  Great  Masters  of  Painting 

the  exact  antipodes  to  the  other."  ^Angelo, 
less  amiable  than  the  younger  artist,  appears 
to  have  been  prejudiced  against  him  because 
he  was  a  pupil  of  Perugino.  Miintz  says 
in  reference  to  this : 

"  There  was  nothing  the  sculptor  disliked 
more  than  the  vapid  style  of  Perugino,  and 
he  was  also  very  much  opposed  to  his  mer- 
cenary ways.  He  accordingly  refused  him 
permission  to  see  some  of  his  pictures  (per- 
haps his  famous  cartoon),  which  he  did  not 
like  showing  to  any  one.  Perugino  made 
some  severe  remark,  whereupon  Michael 
Angelo,  losing  his  temper,  called  him  an  '  old 
woman/  So  gross  an  insult  was  not  worth 
notice,  but  Perugino  would  not  sit  down 
under  it.  Twenty  years  before,  he  would 
have  waited  for  Michael  Angelo  at  the  corner 
of  the  street  and  have  given  him  a  sound 
thrashing,  but  he  was  too  old  for  that,  and 
he  perhaps  remembered  the  fine  which  had 
been  inflicted  upon  him  some  time  before. 


Raphael  53 

He  accordingly  decided  to  appeal  to  the 
tribunals,  but  he  took  nothing  by  it,  for  he 
lost  his  case,  and  his  reputation  declined 
very  much  in  consequence.  Soon  afterward 
he  went  back  to  Umbria,  where  no  one 
thought  of  questioning  his  merit,  and  where 
he  was  amply  compensated  for  slights  in- 
flicted elsewhere.  To  my  mind,  the  hostility 
between  Michael  Angelo  and  Raphael  may 
well  have  originated  in  this  quarrel,  for  the 
former,  hot-tempered  as  he  was,  very  prob- 
ably vented  on  the  pupil  the  ill-will  he  felt 
for  the  master.'* 

Crowe  and  Cavalcaselle,  on  the  other  hand, 
do  not  admit  the  existence  of  such  feeling  as 
Miintz  implies.  They  say  : 

"  In  Tuscany,  neither  Raphael  nor  Buona- 
rotti  could  dispense  with  the  patronage  of 
the  rich,  to  which  they  both  appealed.  At 
Rome  they  were  servants  of  a  pontiff,  who 
employed  them  both  under  one  roof.  Varie- 
ties and  dissonances,  which  might  have  passed 


54         The  Great  Masters  of  Painting 

unnoticed  in  Tuscany,  would  naturally  come 
out  with  exceptional  force  at  the  Vatican ; 
because,  in  the  one  case,  the  two  men  were 
necessarily  thrown  together,  in  the  other, 
they  seldom  met  in  friendship  or  in  enmity. 
Still,  at  Florence  as  at  Rome,  nothing  pre- 
vented either  of  them  from  following  his 
own  bent.  Raphael  might  charm  those  who 
knew  him  by  a  pleasing  affability;  Michael 
Angelo  might  repel  rather  than  court  friend- 
ship by  rudeness  and  sarcasm.  To  such  of 
the  public  as  understood  these  things,  both 
artists  were  gifted  with  extraordinary  powers, 
which  only  differed  from  each  other  in  some 
of  their  subtler  elements.  One  was  all 
grace ;  the  other  all  strength.  Two  forces* 
directly  equal  and  contrary,  met  and  neutral- 
ized each  other.  The  picture  of  violent 
and  ceaseless  hostility,  which  tradition  has 
handed  down  to  us  as  a  normal  state  in 
which  Raphael  and  Michael  Angelo  lived, 
appears  to  be  grossly  exaggerated.  In  all 


Raphael  55 

that  we  can  gather  from  credible  sources, 
as  well  from  reasoning  as  from  analogy,  we 
find  no  more  than  that  they  were  generous 
rivals.  They  had  nothing  to  fear  from  each 
other.  Neither  of  them  could  miss  the  goal 
for  which  they  equally  contended,  neither 
fail  to  produce  those  masterpieces  which 
surprised  their  contemporaries  and  afterward 
astonished  the  world." 

And  again : 

"It  may  be  true  that  during  the  prog- 
ress of  the  Sistine  Chapel  and  Camere  the 
rivalry  of  Raphael  and  Michael  Angelo  be- 
came acute.  Yet  there  is  hardly  ground 
for  thinking  that  it  was  in  1509  that  Michael 
Angelo  was  threatened  with  the  direct  oppo- 
sition of  which  Condivi  and  Vasari  speak  — 
the  opposition  which  aimed  at  substituting 
Raphael  for  Michael  Angelo  in  the  comple- 
tion of  the  Sistine  Chapel.  One  of  the 
principal  grounds  for  thinking  that  no  such 
opposition  was  then  made  is  that  Buonarotti 


56         The  Great  Masters  of  Painting 

^-' 
continued  his  labors  at  the  Vatican,   whilst 

Raphael  went  on  painting  at  the  Camere. 
The  Pope,  who  had  easy  access  to  both 
places,  may  have  compared  the  pictures  of 
the  two  painters,  and  contrasted  the  beauties 
of  the  '  Disputa '  with  those  of  the  *  Crea- 
tion '  or  the  *  Deluge ; '  but  as  each  of  the 
two  masters  had  begun  a  series  of  works 
that  required  unity  of  thought  as  well  as 
of  handling  to  complete  them,  the  anecdotes, 
of  which  artistic  annals  are  full,  can  scarcely 
apply  to  the  period  at  which  we  have  now 
arrived  in  Raphael's  life." 

Among  the  anecdotes  which  survive  con- 
cerning the  relations  between  Raphael  and 
Michael  Angelo  is  one  which  relates  that 
the  older  artist,  encountering  Raphael  in  the 
courtyard  of  the  Vatican,  attended  by  numer- 
ous pupils,  sneeringly  remarked,  "  You  walk 
with  the  retinue  of  a  prince."  To  this 
Raphael  is  supposed  to  have  replied,  "And 
you  alone,  like  an  executioner." 


Raphael  57 

It  is  this  episode  which  furnished  Vernet 
with  a  subject  for  the  painting  which  we 
reproduce.  At  the  top  of  the  picture,  to 
the  left,  is  seen  Pope  Julius,  whose  attention, 
Bramante,  plan  in  hand,  seeks  to  attract  to- 
ward the  fabric  of  the  palace.  The  Supreme 
Pontiff,  however,  motions  him  aside  with  a 
gesture  of  his  hand  and  fixes  his  eyes  upon 
Raphael,  who,  surrounded  by  several  fellow 
artists,  is  engaged  in  sketching  a  peasant 
mother  and  her  child,  seated  amidst  other 
pilgrims  to  the  Eternal  City,  and  forming 
the  centre  of  a  group  suggestive  of  the  holy 
family.  In  the  foreground  appears  the  great 
Buonarotti,  carrying  in  his  arms  a  model  for 
one  of  his  sculptured  figures,  while  above 
Raphael,  to  the  right,  may  be  discerned 
Leonardo  da  Vinci  (with  a  long  gray  beard) 
speaking  to  a  young  artist  standing  at  his 
side. 

The  painter  of  "  Raphael  in  the  Vatican  " 
came  of  an  artist  family,  both  his  father, 


58         The  Great  Masters  of  Painting 

\ 
Carle  Vernet,   and   his   grandfather, 

Vernet,  being  distinguished  painters.  Horace 
Vernet  was  born  at  Paris  in  1789,  and  dis- 
played artistic  talent  in  early  childhood. 
During  a  life  of  ceaseless  industry  and  ever 
increasing  fame,  this  artist  produced  a  great 
number  of  works,  mostly  of  military  sub- 
jects. Many  of  his  battle-pictures  are  to 
be  seen  at  Versailles,  while  his  "Judith  and 
Holof ernes  "  and  "  Defence  of  the  Barrier 
of  Clichy"  are  in  the  Louvre.  Vernet 
painted  many  scenes  from  the  campaigns 
of  the  French  in  Algeria,  a  notable  one 
being  the  "  Taking  of  the  Smalah  of  Abd-el- 
Kader  in  1843,"  an  enormous  canvas,  now 
in  the  palace  of  Versailles.  He  died  at 
Paris,  on  Jan.  17,  1863. 


Diirer  59 

DURER 

THE   old   proverb   of   the   Nurembergers 
proudly  asserted  that 

"  Nuremberg's  hand 
Goes  through  every  land  " 

and  this  was  no  idle  boast,  for  the  free  and 
busy  city,  which  has  been  well  called  "the 
Birmingham  of  the  Middle  Ages,"  divided 
with  Augsburg  the  great  transcontinental 
traffic  between  Venice  and  the  Levant  and 
Northern  Europe.  The  commercial  relations 
of  Nuremberg  and  the  City  of  the  Lagoons 
were  especially  important,  and  numerous  mer- 
chants from  the  Bavarian  city  were  connected 
with  the  Fondaco  de'  Tedeschi,  or  German 
warehouse,  in  Venice,  and  travelled  back  and 
forth  between  the  two  great  centres  of  com- 
merce. 

The     main    reason,    among    several,    for 
Diirer's  second  visit  to  Venice,  which  took 


60         The  Great  Masters  of  Painting 

place  in  1505  (it  appears  now  to  be  fairly 
proven  that  he  had  also  been  there  in  1494), 
is  to  be  found  in  the  project  for  rebuilding 
the  Fondaco  de'  Tedeschi,  which  was  burnt 
down  in  the  winter  of  the  year  1504-05.  A 
few  months  later  the  Venetian  Senate  de- 
cided to  begin  the  work  of  rebuilding  the 
edifice  on  an  enlarged  scale,  and  from  the 
various  plans  submitted  chose  those  by  a 
countryman  of  Diirer,  one  Hieronymus,  prob- 
ably of  Augsburg.  Professor  Thausing,  in 
his  authoritative  biography  of  Diirer,  says 
that  the  two  ruling  parties  in  the  German 
colony  at  Venice  were  the  Augsburg  and 
Nuremberg  merchants,  and  suggests  that,  in 
order  to  avoid  undue  partiality  (the  architect 
selected  being  an  Augsburger),  they  deter- 
mined to  give  Diirer  the  commission  to  paint 
an  altar-piece  for  the  church  of  San  Barto- 
lommeo,  which  was  attached  to  their  Fon- 
daco. The  picture  resulting  from  this 
decision  was  the  famous  "Feast  of  the 


Durer  61 

Rosary"  (now  in  the  monastery  of  Strahow, 
near  Prague),  in  the  background  of  which  the 
painter  has  introduced  portraits  of  himself 
and  of  his  friend,  Wilibald  Pirkheimer,  while 
behind  them  may  be  seen  a  distant  group  of 
buildings,  representing  the  castle  of  their 
beloved  Nuremberg.  Writing  to  Pirkheimer 
from  Venice,  Durer  refers  to  the  picture 
thus :  "  I  have  also  silenced  the  painters, 
who  said  that  I  was  a  good  engraver,  but 
did  not  know  how  to  manage  colors.  Now 
everyone  says  they  never  saw  more  beautiful 
coloring."  Again,  he  says,  "All  the  artists 
praise  it  just  as  the  great  people  praised  you. 
They  say  they  never  saw  a  more  sublime  or 
more  lovely  picture." 

In  another  letter  to  Pirkheimer,  Durer 
writes : 

"  I  wish  you  were  in  Venice.  There  are 
many  fine  fellows  among  the  painters,  who 
get  more  and  more  friendly  with  me ;  it 
holds  one's  heart  up.  Well  brought  up  folks, 


62          The  Great  Masters  of  Painting 

good  lute  players,  skilled  pipers  and  many 
noble  and  excellent  people,  are  in  the  com- 
pany, all  wishing  me  very  well,  and  being 
very  friendly.  On  the  other  hand,  here  are 
the  falsest,  most  lying,  thievish  villains  in  the 
whole  world,  appearing  to  the  unwary  the 
pleasantest  possible  fellows.  I  laugh  to  my- 
self when  they  try  it  with  me :  the  fact  is, 
they  know  their  rascality  is  public,  though 
one  says  nothing.  I  have  many  good  friends 
among  the  Italians,  who  warn  me  not  to  eat 
or  drink  with  their  painters  :  for  many  of  them 
are  my  enemies,  and  copy  my  picture  in  the 
church,  and  others  of  mine  wherever  they 
meet  with  them ;  and  yet,  notwithstanding 
this,  they  abuse  my  works,  and  say  that  they 
are  not  according  to  ancient  art,  and,  there- 
fore, not  good.  But  Gian  Bellini  has  praised 
me  highly  before  several  gentlemen,  and  he 
wishes  to  have  something  of  my  painting. 
He  came  himself,  and  asked  me  to  do  some- 
thing for  him,  saying  that  he  would  pay  me 


Diirer  63 

well  for  it ;  and  all  the  people  here  tell  me 
what  a  good  man  he  is,  so  that  I  also  am 
greatly  inclined  to  him." 

A  pleasing  story  is  told  of  Diirer's  inter- 
course with  the  aged  Bellini : 

Bellini,  while  paying  a  visit  to  Durer,  asked, 
as  a  special  mark  of  affection,  for  one  of  the 
brushes  used  by  the  latter  in  painting  hair. 
Durer  held  out  to  him  a  number  of  ordinary 
brushes,  and  told  him  to  choose  one,  or  take 
them  all  if  he  liked.  Bellini,  thinking  Durer 
had  not  understood  him,  again  asked  for  one 
of  the  particular  brushes  with  which,  as  he 
thought,  Diirer  was  accustomed  to  do  his 
fine  hair  painting.  On  this  Diirer  assured 
him  that  he  used  nothing  but  the  ordinary 
brushes,  and,  to  prove  it,  painted  on  the  spot 
a  long  lock  of  woman's  hair  in  his  peculiar 
manner.  Bellini  is  said  to  have  acknowledged 
to  several  people  afterward  that  he  would 
never  have  believed  it  if  he  had  not  seen  it 
with  his  own  eyes. 


64         The  Great  Masters  of  Painting 

It  is  somewhat  curious  that  Diirer  makes 
no  mention  in  his  letters  of  either  Giorgione 
or  Titian,  though  he  must  have  met  them,  as 
both  painters  were  employed,  during  Diirer's 
stay  in  Venice,  in  decorating  the  exterior 
walls  of  the  Fondaco  de'  Tedeschi  with  fres- 
coes. 

The  popular  and  industrious  artist  Carl 
Becker,  in  his  painting  of  "Albrecht  Diirer 
in  Venice,"  places  before  us  the  handsome 
Bavarian  seated  beside  old  Bellini,  who  is  ex- 
amining some  of  Diirer's  drawings.  Behind 
them  appears  Giorgione,  who  is  about  to 
pledge  Durer  in  a  bumper  of  wine,  while 
Titian  replenishes  his  glass.  It  is  not  a 
matter  of  wonder  that  Diirer's  words  at  the 
thought  of  returning  home  and  leaving  these 
genial  kindred  spirits  were,  "  Ah,  how  I  shall 
shiver  for  want  of  the  sun.  Here  I  am  a 
gentleman,  at  home  a  hanger-on."  It  seems 
that  Becker  has  permitted  himself  some  artis- 
tic license  in  representing  Titian  so  mature  in 


Durer  6$ 

aspect,  —  in  fact,  he  was  only  about  twenty- 
eight  years  old  at  this  period,  and  the  junior 
of  the  German  painter  by  several  years. 

Lavinia,  the  beautiful  daughter  of  Titian, 
—  so  well  known  to  art  lovers  by  her  father's 
portrait  of  her  bearing  a  dish  of  fruit,  in  the 
Berlin  gallery,  —  stands  behind  her  brother 
Orazio,  who  holds  up  a  sketch  he  has  just 
taken  from  Dlirer 's  portfolio. 

Becker,  who  died  in  1900  at  the  age  of 
eighty  years,  was  a  pupil  of  Hess  and  Cor- 
nelius, and  won  many  honors  in  the  course 
of  a  long  life.  His  "  Charles  V.  Being  Enter- 
tained by  Fugger  "  is  in  the  National  Gallery 
at  Berlin,  and  "The  Emperor  Maximilian 
Crowning  Ulrich  von  Hutten  at  Augsburg" 
belongs  to  the  Walraff-Richartz  Museum  at 
Cologne.  At  the  Corcoran  Gallery  in  Wash- 
ington may  be  seen  his  painting  of  "The 
newly  found  statue  of  the  Apollo  Belvedere 
viewed  by  Pope  Julius  II.,"  and  other  works 
of  his  are  in  American  galleries,  both  public 


66         The  Great  Masters  of  Painting 

and  private.  Probably  his  best-known  pic- 
tures are  "Othello  Relating  his  Adventures 
to  Desdemona  and  her  Father,"  and  "  Romeo 
and  Juliet  at  the  Friar's." 


CORREGGIO 

THE  meagre  records  of  Correggio's  life  do 
not  tell  us  much  of  the  man  who  spent  his 
years  peacefully  at  work  at  Parma,  far  from 
the  great  centres  of  Italian  art,  and  never, 
apparently,  even  visited  Rome.  The  exag- 
gerated tales  of  his  poverty  and  avarice 
have  been  proved  unworthy  of  belief,  and 
we  may  now  feel  sure  that  Correggio  knew 
neither  want  nor  wealth.  But  the  cause 
of  his  seemingly  sudden  death  at  the  early 
age  of  forty  is  still  a  mystery,  nor  have 
we  any  authentic  portrait  of  the  painter  of 
the  «  Holy  Night." 

A  continuous  chorus  of  praise  has  been  for 
over  three  centuries  bestowed  on  Correggio 


Correggio  67 

—  from  Vasari,  who  awarded  him  "  the  great 
praise  of  having  attained  the  highest  point  of 
perfection  in  coloring,"  to  Ruskin,  who  said, 
speaking  of  the  National  Gallery,  "The  two 
pictures  which  I  would  last  part  with,  out  of 
it,  would  be  Titian's  'Bacchus'  and  Correg- 
gio's  'Venus.'  ' 

Sweetser  says  :  "  In  the  seventeenth  cen- 
tury, Correggio's  pictures  fascinated  all  be- 
holders, and  the  tide  of  his  fame  rose  higher 
and  higher,  especially  after  the  Caracci  had 
aroused  an  interest  by  their  letters  and  re- 
searches. Said  Annibale  Caracci:  'Cor- 
reggio's thoughts  are  his  own  thoughts, 
emanating  from  his  own  imagination.  One 
sees  that  they  are  the  offspring  of  his  brain, 
and  that  he  took  nature  alone  into  his  coun- 
cils. Others  have  ever  leaned  upon  some 
foreign  support,  some  on  models,  others  on 
statues  and  engravings/  Scanelli  calls 
Correggio,  Raphael,  and  Titian  the  three 
greatest  painters,  saying :  '  He  has  in  reality 


68         The  Great  Masters  of  Painting 

reached  the  zenith  of  faithful  portraiture  of 
nature/  Tassoni  enters  rhapsody  thus : 
*  Pliny  praises  the  paintings  of  Apelles,  with 
which  those  of  our  master  may  in  some  re- 
spects be  compared,  chiefly  for  their  grace, 
beauty  of  finish,  and  charm  of  color ;  but  no 
one  can  quite  equal  Antonio,  who  has  at- 
tained the  highest  point  of  perfection  in 
artistic  coloring,  expression  of  beauty,  and 
grace.'  Still  later  the  ecstatic  Scaramuccia 
says  :  '  This  is  the  very  quintessence  of  good 
style.  You  need  not  seek  further,  for  here 
are  hidden  the  costly  jewels  and  all  the 
imaginable  essentials  of  our  highly  difficult 
art.  You  do  not  need  to  seek  further.  Oh, 
thou  spirit  of  my  Antonio  of  Correggio,  what 
master  didst  thou  have  from  whom  thou 
couldst  have  acquired  such  divine  powers  ? ' 
"The  next  century  magnified  his  power  still 
more,  if  possible,  and  his  fame  was  spread 
more  widely  by  travellers  returning  from 
Italy  to  their  distant  homes  in  the  North  and 


Correggio  69 

West,  bearing  amazing  stories  of  the  great 
paintings  at  Parma  and  Modena.  Most  of 
these  were  Frenchmen,  with  all  the  vivacious 
enthusiasm  of  the  Latin  race ;  and  even 
Raphael  himself  fared  hard  when  compared 
with  the  new-found  Apelles.  A  deep  inter- 
est arose  in  the  course  and  events  of  his 
life,  and  investigations  were  made  by  the 
highly  suspected  Pater  Resta  of  Milan ;  by 
the  Swiss  painter,  David ;  by  Gherardo  Bru- 
norio ;  by  Raphael  Mengs,  who  wrote  '  On 
the  Life  and  Works  of  Antonio  Allegri ; '  by 
the  Genoese  painter,  Carlo  Giuseppe  Ratti, 
author  of  a  voluminous  biography ;  by 
Michele  Antonioli,  who  made  several  fresh 
discoveries ;  by  Tiraboschi,  the  learned  and 
accurate  librarian  of  Modena ;  by  Pater 
Irenea  Aff6,  who  found  the  frescoes  in  the 
convent  of  San  Paolo,  at  Parma ;  and  by 
Pater  Luigi  Pungileoni,  who  published  three 
volumes  on  Correggio,  full  of  the  evidences 
of  careful  study  and  analysis. 


70         The  Great  Masters  of  Painting 

,  "The  complex  criticism  of  the  nineteenth 
century  has  been  more  discriminating  and 
less  adulatory.  The  connoisseurs  of  the 
North,  of  England  and  Germany,  have,  in 
some  cases,  applied  moral  rules  to  his  works, 
and  find  in  them  the  Beginning  of  the  great 
decadence.  With  all  his  undeniable  gifts 
and  genius  acknowledged,  he  is  charged  with 
having  demoralized  art  by  introducing  new 
and  less  sanctified  motives,  and  thus  prepar- 
ing the  way  for  the  degradation  which  ensued 
in  the  next  period.  The  three  preceding 
centuries  found  fault  with  his  drawing,  some- 
times, or  with  his  groupings,  but  had  not  dis- 
covered his  loss  of  spiritual  insight. 

"  Of  late  years,  and  especially  since  Ruskin's 
influence  has  become  such  a  power  in  art- 
criticism,  there  has  been  much  reprehension 
of  the  so-called  inherent  sensuality  of  Cor- 
reggio's  pictures.  But  there  is  a  charming 
naTvete",  an  idyllic  purity,  in  his  works,  which 
bear  evidence  that  his  glorification  of  the 


Correggio  Jl 

flesh  was  only  a  reproduction,  original,  and 
not  communicated  from  any  study,  of  the 
old  Greek  naturalism,  wherein  the  human 
body,  perfectly  developed  throughout  and  full 
of  all  life,  is  still  the  crown  of  all  beauty,  the 
worthiest  theme  of  art.  This  is  not  religion, 
but  it  is  truth.  The  tranquillity  and  purity 
of  Correggio' s  life  bear  witness  that  his 
works  were  wrought  out  from  no  base  mind, 
but  were  rather  the  best  efforts  of  a  frank 
and  childlike  soul.  The  tide  of  pietism,  ris- 
ing in  the  catacombs  and  the  caves  of  the 
Nitrian  desert,  and  everywhere  present  in 
Umbrian  and  Tuscan  art  and  life,  had 
passed  its  flood,  and  throughout  Europe, 
from  the  Baltic  to  the  Adriatic,  men  were 
looking  at  the  old  problems  in  a  new  light, 
the  light  of  nature  and  of  reason.  Insulated 
as  he  was  amid  the  dull  peasantry  of  rural 
Lombardy,  Allegri  felt  the  thrill  of  the  ris- 
ing Renaissance,  and  ignored  asceticism  as  a 
dead  issue,  —  painting,  in  all  naturalness  and 


72         The  Great  Masters  of  Painting 

grace,  the  joyousness  of  human  life  and  hu- 
man instincts." 

A  legend  relates  that  Titian  said  of  Cor- 
reggio's  frescoes  in  the  Duomo  of  Parma, 
"  Turn  it  upside  down  and  fill  it  with  gold ; 
even  so,  you  will  not  have  paid  its  just 
price,"  and  Raphael  Mengs  called  it  "the 
most  beautiful  of  all  cupolas  painted  either 
before  or  since."  Brinton,  the  latest  biog- 
rapher of  Correggio,  writes  of  "that  won- 
derful cathedral  cupola,  which,  with  all  its 
faults,  is  yet  the  expression  of  his  sincerest 
utterance  :  no  dream  of  beauty  that  poet  has 
conceived  can  equal  that  radiant  world  of 
angel  forms  which  there  surrounds  us,  those 
genii  who  light  their  torches  or  scatter  in- 
cense on  the  sacrifice,  those  children  who 
float  upward  through  the  golden  vaporous 
clouds:  from  the  grave  saints  tended  by 
the  child  angels,  from  the  apostles  above  and 
their  glad  genii,  to  the  uprushing  wave  of 
angel  forms  who  soar  into  the  golden  haze 


Correggio  73 

of  the  cupola,  it  is  a  cry  of  '  Sursum  corda ! ' 
—  *  Lift  up  your  hearts  ! '  —  that  the  old 
painter  of  heavenly  joy  has  sent  us." 

Annibale  Caracci  wrote,  "The  children 
of  Correggio  breathe  and  smile  with  such  a 
grace  and  truth  that  one  cannot  refrain  from 
smiling  and  enjoying  one's  self  with  them," 
and  Guido  Reni  is  asserted  to  have  asked  a 
citizen  of  Modena  "  if  Correggio 's  putti  at  S. 
Pietro  Martire  had  grown  up  and  left  their 
places  where  he  had  seen  them,  for  so  vivid 
and  life-like  were  they  that  it  was  impossible 
to  believe  they  could  remain." 

Corrado  Ricci,  director  of  the  gallery  at 
Parma,  says,  in  his  authoritative  life  of  the 
artist,  when  speaking  of  Correggio's  children  : 

"  The  innumerable  cherubs,  genii,  and  chil- 
dren scattered  throughput  his  works  are  the 
result  of  his  delight  in  the  pictorial  expres- 
sion of  grace  and  happiness.  No  other 
painter  has  succeeded  in  rendering  these 
little  creatures  with"  such  truth  of  form 


74         The  Great  Masters  of  Painting 

and  expression,  with  such  a  knowledge^  of 
their  naifve  simplicity  and  pretty  grotesque- 
ness  of  pose,  although,  after  his  time,  the 
palaces  and  churches  of  half  Europe  were 
invaded  by  laughing  infant  hordes.  John 
Addington  Symonds  writes  as  follows  of  the 
putti  in  the  cupola  of  San  Giovanni  Evan- 
gelista :  '  Correggio  has  sprinkled  them  lav- 
ishly like  living  flowers  about  his  cloudland, 
because  he  could  not  sustain  a  grave  and 
solemn  strain  of  music,  but  was  forced  by 
his  temperament  to  overlay  the  melody  with 
roulades.  Gazing  at  these  frescoes,  the 
thought  came  to  me  that  Correggio  was  like 
a  man  listening  to  sweetest  flute  playing, 
and  translating  phrase  after  phrase,  as  they 
passed  through  his  fancy,1  into  laughing  faces, 
breezy  tresses,  and  polling  mists.  Sometimes 
a  grander  cadence  reached  his  ear,  and  then 
St.  Peter  with  the  keys,  or  St.  Augustine  of 
the  mighty  brow,  or  the  inspired  eyes  of  St. 
John,  took  form  beneath  his  pencil.  But  the 


Michael  Angela  75 

light  airs  returned,  and  rose  and  lily  bloomed 
again  for  him  among  the  clouds.' ' 

Henri  Guillaume  Schlesinger,  whose  pic- 
ture imagines  Correggio  making  sketches  of 
some  lovely  children,  was  an  artist  of  Ger- 
man birth  who  became  a  naturalized  citizen 
of  France.  A  pupil  of  the  Academy  of 
Vienna,  he  made  his  bow  at  the  Paris  Salon 
in  1840,  and  exhibited  many  portraits  and 
subject-pictures  there  during  the  course  of 
a  life  which  reached  to  eighty  years.  His 
"  Five  Senses,"  shown  at  the  Paris  Exposi- 
tion of  1867,  was  bought  by  Napoleon  III. 
Schlesinger  died  in  1893. 

MICHAEL   ANGELO 

IT  is  said  that,  being  asked  by  a  priest  why 
he  had  never  married,  Michael  Angelo  re- 
plied :  "  I  have  only  too  much  of  a  wife  in 
this  art  of  min£.  She  has  always  kept  me 
struggling  on.  My  children  will  be  the  works 


76         The  Great  Masters  of  Painting 

I  leave  behind  me.  Even  though  they^are 
worth  naught,  yet  I  shall  live  awhile  in  them. 
Woe  to  Lorenzo  Ghiberti  if  he  had  not  made 
the  gates  of  S.  Giovanni.  His  children  and 
grandchildren  have  sold  and  squandered  the 
substance  that  he  left.  The  gates  are  still 
in  their  places." 

The  only  woman  with  whose  name  that 
of  Michael  Angelo  has  been  connected  is 
Vittoria  Colonna,  and  their  affection  for  each 
other  seems  to  have  been  purely  of  a  platonic 
nature.  On  her  side  was  admiration  for  a 
great  artist ;  on  his  side,  attraction  to  a  noble 
nature,  strengthened  by  a  common  love  for 
poetry  and  a  unity  of  religious  sentiment. 

Vittoria  was  about  fifteen  years  younger 
than  the  great  Angelo,  having  been  born  in 
1490.  Her  father  was  Fabrizio  Colonna, 
Grand  Constable  of  Naples ;  her  mother, 
Agnesina  di  Montefeltro,  daughter  to  Fede- 
rigo,  Duke  of  Urbino.  Betrothed  when  a 
child,  Vittoria  Colonna  was  married  at  nine- 


Michael  Angela  77 

teen  to  the  young  Marquis  of  Pescara,  who 
became  a  brilliant  soldier,  but  whose  career 
ended  in  disgrace  in  1525.  His  widow,  igno- 
rant of  some  of  his  faults,  forgiving  others, 
mourned  him  long  and  faithfully,  and  never 
remarried. 

"  For  death,  that  breaks  the  marriage  band 
In  others,  only  closer  pressed 
The  wedding-ring  upon  her  hand, 
And  closer  locked  and  barred  her  breast." 

We  do  not  know  when  the  friendship 
between  her  and  Michael  Angelo  began  — 
perhaps  about  1538,  when  the  artist  was 
over  sixty  and  the  lady  nearing  fifty  years. 
The  only  letters  extant  which  he  sent  to  her, 
and  they  are  but  two,  belong  to  the  year 
1545,  when  Angelo  had  reached  seventy 
years.  The  friends  had  sent  each  other 
poems  of  their  own  composition,  and  Michael 
Angelo  had  also  executed  certain  drawings 
for  the  lady. 


78         The  Great  Masters  of  Painting 

His  first  epistle  to  Vittoria  is  as  follows : 
"  I  desired,  lady,  before  I  accepted  the  things 
which  your  ladyship  has  often  expressed  the 
will  to  give  me  —  I  desired  to  produce  some- 
thing for  you  with  my  own  hand,  in  order  to 
be  as  little  as  possible  unworthy  of  this  kind- 
ness. I  have  now  come  to  recognize  that 
the  grace  of  God  is  not  to  be  bought,  and 
that  to  keep  it  waiting  is  a  grievous  sin. 
Therefore  I  acknowledge  my  error,  and  will- 
ingly accept  your  favors.  When  I  possess 
them,  not  indeed  because  I  shall  have  them 
in  my  house,  but  for  that  I  myself  shall  dwell 
in  them,  the  place  will  seem  to  encircle  me 
with  Paradise.  For  which  felicity  I  shall 
remain  ever  more  obliged  to  your  ladyship 
than  I  am  already,  if  that  is  possible. 

"  The  bearer  of  this  letter  will  be  Urbino, 
who  lives  in  my  service.  Your  ladyship  may 
inform  him  when  you  would  like  me  to  come 
and  see  the  head  you  promised  to  show 


me." 


Michael  Angelo  79 

The  letter  was  accompanied  by  this  son- 
net: 

"  Seeking  at  least  to  be  not  all  unfit 

For  thy  sublime  and  boundless  courtesy, 
My  lowly  thoughts  at  first  were  fain  to  try 

What  they  could  yield  for  grace  so  infinite. 

But  now  I  know  my  unassisted  wit 

Is  all  too  weak  to  make  me  soar  so  high, 
For  pardon,  lady,  for  this  fault  I  cry, 

And  wiser  still  I  grow,  remembering  it. 

Yea,  well  I  see  what  folly  'twere  to  think 

That  largess  dropped  from  *thee  like  dews  from 

heaven 
Could  e're  be  paid  by  work  so  frail  as  mine ! 

To  nothingness  my  art  and  talent  sink  ; 

He  fails  who  from  his  mortal  stores  hath  given 
A  thousandfold  to  match  one  gift  divine." 

Here  is  a  translation,  by  Symonds,  who 
also  translated  those  sonnets  by  the  master 
which  are  here  quoted,  of  a  letter  which 
Vittoria  Colonna  sent  to  Michael  Angelo 
from  Viterbo : 

"MAGNIFICENT     MESSER    MlCHELANGELO. 

"I  did  not  reply  earlier  to  your  letter,  be 


8o         The  Great  Masters  of  Painting 

cause  it  was,  as  one  might  say,  an  answer  to 
my  last ;  for  I  thought  that  if  you  and  I  were 
to  go  on  writing  without  intermission  accord- 
ing to  my  obligation  and  your  courtesy,  I 
should  have  to  neglect  the  Chapel  of  S. 
Catherine  here,  and  be  absent  at  the  ap- 
pointed hours  for  company  with  my  sister- 
hood, while  you  would  have  to  leave  the 
Chapel  of  S.  Paul,  and  be  absent  from 
morning  through  the  day  from  your  sweet 
usual  colloquy  with  painted  forms,  the  which 
with  their  natural  accents  do  not  speak  to 
you  less  clearly  than  the  living  persons 
round  me  speak  to  me.  Thus  we  should 
both  of  us  fail  in  our  duty,  I  to  the  brides, 
you  to  the  vicar  of  Christ.  For  these  rea- 
sons, inasmuch  as  I  am  well  assured  of  our 
steadfast  friendship  and  firm  affection,  bound 
by  knots  of  Christian  kindness,  I  do  not  think 
it  necessary  to  obtain  the  proof  of  your  good 
will  in  letters  by  writing  on  my  side,  but 
rather  to  await  with  well-prepared  mind  some 


Michael  Angela  81 

substantial  occasion  for  serving  you.  Mean- 
while I  address  my  prayers  to  that  Lord  of 
whom  you  spoke  to  me  with  so  fervent  and 
humble  a  heart,  when  I  left  Rome,  that  when 
I  return  thither  I  may  find  you  with  his 
image  renewed  and  enlivened  by  true  faith 
in  your  soul,  in  like  measure  as  you  have 
painted  it  with  perfect  art  in  my  Samaritan. 
Believe  me  to  remain  always  yours  and  your 
Urbino's." 

The  friendship  between  these  two  noble 
souls  came  to  an  end,  as  far  as  death  can  end 
such  things,  in  1547,  when  Vittoria  Colonna 
passed  from  earth. 

"  All  my  friends  are  dead  ; 
And  she  is  dead,  the  noblest  of  them  all. 
I  saw  her  face,  when  the  great  Sculptor  Death, 
Whom  men  should  call  Divine,  had  at  a  blow 
Stricken  her  into  marble  ;  and  I  kissed 
Her  cold  white  hand." x 

1  Longfellow's  "  Michael  Angelo." 


82         The  Great  Masters  of  Painting 

si-' 
The  two  sonnets  which  here  follow  were 

doubtless   composed   by  Angelo   in   his  be- 
reavement : 

» 

"  When  my  rude  hammer  to  the  stubborn  stone 
Gives  human  shape,  now  that,  now  this,  at  will, 
Following  his  hand  who  wields  and  guides  it  still, 

It  moves  upon  another's  feet  alone ; 

But  that  which  dwells  in  heaven,  the  world  doth  fill 
With  beauty  by  pure  motions  of  its  own  ; 
And  since  tools  fashion  tools  which  else  were  none, 

Its  life  makes  all  that  lives  with  living  skill. 

Now,  for  that  every  stroke  excels  the  more 
The  higher  at  the  forge  it  doth  ascend, 
Her  soul  that  fashioned  mine  hath  sought  the 

skies  ; 

Wherefore  unfinished  I  must  meet  my  end, 
If  God,  the  great  Artificer,  denies 

That  aid  which  was  unique  on  earth  before." 

"  When  she  who  was  the  source  of  all  my  sighs 
Fled  from  the  world,  herself,  my  straining  sight, 
Nature,  who  gave  us  that  unique  delight, 

Was  sunk  in  shame,  and  we  had  weeping  eyes. 

Yet  shall  not  vauntful  Death  enjoy  the  prize, 
This  sun  of  suns  which  then  he  veiled  in  night ; 
For  Love  hath  triumphed,  lifting  up  her  light 


Michael  Angela  83 

On  earth  and  'mid  the  saints  of  Paradise. 
What  though  remorseless  and  impiteous  doom 

Deemed  that  the  music  of  her  deeds  would  die, 
And  that  her  splendor  would  be  sunk  in  gloom  ? 

The  poet's  page  exalts  her  to  the  sky 
With  Life  more  living  in  the  lifeless  tomb, 

And  Death  translates  her  soul  to  reign  on  high." 

Vittoria  Colonna  had  been  at  rest  seven- 
teen years  when  the  end  of  a  long  life  and  of 
many  colossal  labors  came  to  Buonarroti. 

"Who  shall  doubt  that  these  two  have 
walked  much  together  since,  in  that  heaven 
where  'they  neither  marry  nor  are  given  in 
marriage  ? ' ' 

In  painting  his  attractive  picture  of 
"  Michael  Angelo  Reading  his  Sonnets  to  Vit- 
toria Colonna,"  Herr  Schneider  has  permitted 
himself  the  quite  allowable  license  of  portray- 
ing the  two  poets  as  somewhat  younger  than 
the  facts  warrant. 

Hermann  Schneider  was  born  at  Munich 
in  1846,  and  received  instruction  in  art  from 
the  celebrated  Piloty.  His  paintings  are 


84         The  Great  Masters  of  Painting 

mostly  historical  in  their  nature,  and  inehide 
«  Charles  V.  at  Valladolid,"  "  Mozart  and  his 
Sister,"  "  Van  Dyck  Painting  the  Children  of 
Charles  I.,"  "  Venus  and  Cupids/'  "  Nymph 
and  Triton,"  "  Abundantia,"  and  "A  Roman 
Festival."  He  has  decorated  the  castle  of 
Drachenburg,  on  the  Rhine,  with  mural 
paintings  of  "The  Cycle  of  Bacchus "  and 
other  subjects. 


CELLINI 

ONE  of  the  most  remarkable  autobiog- 
raphies ever  given  to  the  world  is  that 
written  by  Benvenuto  Cellini.  An  artist  of 
rare  gifts  and  consummate  master  of  the 
goldsmith's  craft,  Cellini  was  hardly  a  great 
sculptor ;  a  man  of  many  faults,  rash,  full  of 
conceit,  arrogant,  quarrelsome,  he  was  "  a  mad- 
cap who  firmly  believed  he  was  wise,  cir^ 
cumspect,  and  prudent."  His  passionate  and 
vindictive  spirit  thought  it  but  right  to  re- 


Cellini  85 

venge  itself  on  an  enemy  either  bravely  in 
the  open  or  by  taking  him  at  a  disadvantage, 
yet  when  we  remember  the  corrupt  age  in 
which  Cellini  lived  and  the  evil  examples 
set  before  him  by  personages  of  the  highest 
rank,  we  are  constrained  to  find  some  excuse 
for  his  conduct. 

At  all  events,  however  much  we  may  and 
must  condemn  many  of  his  acts,  we  cannot 
but  admire  his  genius  and  energy,  and  the 
frankness  with  which  he  tells  the  story  of  his 
romantic  career. 

In  Robert-Fleury's  picture  of  our  artist- 
bravo,  we  see  Cellini  as  he  sits  in  his  studio 
brooding  darkly  over  some  real  or  fancied 
wrong  and  thinking  how  he  may  best  re- 
quite it. 

As  an  instance  of  Cellini's  revengeful 
spirit,  we  will  mention  the  account  of  his 
brother's  death  and  the  way  it  was  revenged. 
It  appears  that  our  artist  had  a  younger 
brother  named  Francesco,  about  twenty  five 


86         The  Great  Masters  of  Painting 

years  old,  who  was  a  soldier  in  the  service  of 
Duke  Alessandro  de  Medici  in  Rome.  Seeing 
one  day  a  former  comrade  being  taken  to 
prison  by  the  guard  of  the  Bargello,  four 
brisk  young  blades  of  Francesco's  company 
were  induced  by  their  captain  to  attempt  a 
rescue.  They  attacked  the  constables,  and 
during  the  fight  which  ensued,  Bertino  Aldo- 
brandi,  an  intimate  friend  of  Francesco's, 
was  seriously  wounded. 

Francesco  coming  up  and  being  told  that 
his  friend  was  killed,  rushed  after  the  guard 
and  ran  through  the  body  the  soldier  who 
had  wounded  Bertino.  Turning  then  upon 
the  other  constables,  an  arquebusier  whom  he 
was  about  to  strike  fired  in  self-defence  (as 
Cellini  himself  says)  and  hit  Francesco  in 
the  thigh.  Of  this  wound  he  soon  afterward 
died,  and  Cellini  vowed  to  revenge  him.  He 
writes  :  "  I  took  to  watching  the  arquebusier 
who  shot  my  brother,  as  though  he  had  been 
a  girl  I  was  in  love  with.  The  man  had  for- 


Cellini  87 

merly  been  in  the  light  cavalry,  but  afterward 
had  joined  the  arquebusiers  as  one  of  the 
Bargello's  corporals ;  and  what  increased  my 
rage  was  that  he  had  used  these  boastful 
words :  'If  it  had  not  been  for  me,  who 
killed  that  brave  young  man,  the  least  trifle 
of  delay  would  have  resulted  in  his  putting 
us  all  to  flight  with  great  disaster.'  When  I 
saw  that  the  fever  caused  by  always  seeing 
him  about  was  depriving  me  of  sleep  and 
appetite,  and  was  bringing  me  by  degrees  to 
sorry  plight,  I  overcame  my  repugnance  to  so 
low  and  not  quite  praiseworthy  an  enterprise, 
and  made  up  my  mind  one  evening  to  rid 
myself  of  the  torment.  The  fellow  lived  in 
a  house  near  a  place  called  Torre  Sanguigua. 
It  had  just  struck  twenty-four,  and  he  was 
standing  at  the  house-door,  with  his  sword  in 
hand,  having  risen  from  supper.  With  great 
address  I  stole  up  to  him,  holding  a  large 
Pistojan  dagger,  and  dealt  him  a  back-handed 
stroke,  with  which  I  meant  to  cut  his  head 


88         The  Great  Masters  of  Painting 

clean  off,  but  as  he  turned  round  very"  sud- 
denly, the  blow  fell  upon  the  point  of  his  left 
shoulder  and  broke  the  bone.  He  sprang  up, 
dropped  his  sword,  half-stunned  with  the 
great  pain,  and  took  to  flight.  I  followed 
after,  and  in  four  steps  caught  him  up,  when 
I  lifted  my  dagger  above  his  head,  which  he 
was  holding  very  low,  and  hit  him  in  the 
back  exactly  at  the  junction  of  the  nape- 
bone  and  the  neck.  The  poniard  entered  this 
point  so  deep  into  the  bone,  that,  though  I 
used  all  my  strength  to  pull  it  out,  I  was  not 
able.  For  just  at  that  moment  four  soldiers 
with  drawn  swords  sprang  out  from  the  next 
house  and  obliged  me  to  set  hand  to  my  own 
sword  to  defend  my  life.  Leaving  the  pon- 
iard then,  I  made  off,  and  fearing  I  might  be 
recognized,  took  refuge  in  the  palace  of 
Duke  Alessandro,  which  was  between  Piazza 
Navona  and  the  Pantheon." 

At  another  time,  having  some  cause  for 
enmity  against  Pompeo,  a  Milanese  jeweller 


Cellini  89 

in  the  papal  service,  Cellini  relates  that  he 
followed  his  rival,  who  was  "  attended  by  ten 
men  very  well  armed,"  and  came  up  with 
him  as  he  was  leaving  an  apothecary's  shop, 
"and  his  bravi  had  opened  their  ranks  and 
received  him  in  their  midst.  I  drew  a  little 
dagger  with  a  sharpened  edge,  and  breaking 
the  line  of  his  defenders,  laid  my  hands  upon 
his  breast  so  quickly  and  coolly  that  none  of 
them  were  able  to  prevent  me.  Then  I 
aimed  to  strike  him  in  the  face ;  but  fright 
made  him  turn  his  head  round,  and  I  stabbed 
him  just  beneath  the  ear.  I  only  gave  two 
blows,  for  he  fell  stone  dead  at  the  second. 
I  had  not  meant  to  kill  him  ;  but,  as  the  say- 
ing goes,  knocks  are  not  dealt  by  measure. 
With  my  left  hand  I  plucked  back  the  dagger 
and  with  my  right  hand  drew  my  sword  to  de- 
fend my  life.  However,  all  those  bravi  ran  up 
to  the  corpse  and  took  no  action  against  me, 
so  I  went  back  alone  through  Strada  Giulia, 
considering  how  best  to  put  myself  in  safety." 


go         The  Great  Masters  of  Painting 

Cellini  now  accepted  an  invitation  Trom 
Cardinal  Cornaro  to  remain  for  a  time  under 
his  protection,  in  view  of  possible  unpleasant 
consequences  from  Pompeo's  murder,  "and 
a  few  days  afterward  the  Cardinal  Farnese 
was  elected  Pope. 

"After  he  had  put  affairs  of  greater  con- 
sequence in  order,  the  new  Pope  sent  for  me, 
saying  that  he  did  not  wish  any  one  else  to 
strike  his  coins.  To  these  words  of  his 
Holiness,  a  gentleman  very  privately  ac- 
quainted with  him,  named  Messer  Latino 
Juvinale,  made  answer  that  I  was  in  hiding 
for  a  murder  committed  on  the  person  of 
one  Pompeo  of  Milan,  and  set  forth  what 
could  be  argued  for  my  justification  in  the 
most  favorable  terms.  The  Pope  replied  : 
*  I  knew  nothing  of  Pompeo's  death,  but 
plenty  of  Benvenuto's  provocation  ;  so  let 
a  safe-conduct  be  at  once  made  out  for  him, 
in  order  that  he  may  be  placed  in  perfect 
security.9  A  great  friend  of  Pompeo's,  who 


Cellini  9 1 

was  also  intimate  with  the  Pope,  happened 
to  be  there ;  he  was  a  Milanese,  called 
Messer  Ambrogio.  This  man  said :  '  In 
the  first  days  of  your  papacy  it  were  not 
well  to  grant  pardons  of  this  kind.'  The 
Pope  turned  to  him  and  answered :  '  You 
know  less  about  such  matters  than  I  do. 
Know,  then,  that  men  like  Benvenuto, 
unique  in  their  profession,  stand  above  the 
law;  and  how  far  more  he,  then,  who  re- 
ceived the  provocation  I  have  heard  of?' 
When  my  safe-conduct  had  been  drawn  out, 
I  began  at  once  to  serve  him,  and  was 
treated  with  the  utmost  favor." 

Having  seen  Benvenuto  as  a  bravo,  let  us 
look  at  him  as  an  artist,  and  one  specially 
favored  by  that  liberal  patron  of  the  arts, 
Francis  I.  Cellini  writes  that  at  one  time 
Francis  said,  "  Having  now  so  fine  a  basin 
and  jug  of  my  workmanship,  he  wanted  an 
equally  handsome  salt-cellar  to  match  them  ; 
and  begged  me  to  make  a  design,  and  to  lose 


92         The  Great  Masters  of  Painting 

no  time  about  it.  I  replied  :  '  Your  Majesty 
shall  see  a  model  of  the  sort  even  sooner 
than  you  have  commanded ;  for  while  I  was 
making  the  basin,  I  thought  there  ought  to 
be  a  salt-cellar  to  match  it,  therefore  I  have 
already  designed  one,  and  if  it  is  your  pleas- 
ure, I  will  at  once  exhibit  my  conception.' 
The  king  turned  with  a  lively  movement  of 
surprise  and  pleasure  to  the  lords  in  his  com- 
pany, —  they  were  the  King  of  Navarre,  the 
Cardinal  of  Lorraine,  and  the  Cardinal  of 
Ferrara,  —  exclaiming,  as  he  did  so  :  '  Upon 
my  word,  this  is  a  man  to  be  loved  and 
cherished  by  every  one  who  knows  him/ 
Then  he  told  me  he  would  very  gladly  see 
my  model. 

"  I  set  off,  and  returned  in  a  few  minutes ; 
for  I  had  only  to  cross  the  river,  that  is,  the 
Seine.  I  carried  with  me  the  wax  model  I 
had  made  in  Rome,  at  the  Cardinal  of  Fer- 
rara's  request.  When  I  appeared  again  be- 
fore the  king,  and  uncovered  my  piece,  he 


Cellini  93 

cried  out  in  astonishment :  '  This  is  a  hun- 
dred times  more  divine  a  thing  than  I  had 
ever  dreamed  of.  What  a  miracle  of  a  man  ! 
He  ought  never  to  stop  working.'  Then  he 
turned  to  me  with  a  beaming  countenance, 
and  told  me  that  he  greatly  liked  the  piece, 
and  wished  me  to  execute  it  in  gold.  The 
Cardinal  of  Ferrara  looked  me  in  the  face, 
and  let  me  understand  that  he  recognized 
the  model  as  the  same  I  had  made  for 
him  in  Rome.  I  replied  that  I  had  already 
told  him  I  should  carry  it  out  for  one  who 
was  worthy  of  it.  The  cardinal,  remember- 
ing my  words,  and  nettled  by  the  revenge 
he  thought  that  I  was  taking  on  him,  re- 
marked to  the  king :  '  Sire,  this  is  an  enor- 
mous undertaking ;  I  am  only  afraid  that  we 
shall  never  see  it  finished.  These  able 
artists,  who  have  great  conceptions  in  their 
brain,  are  ready  enough  to  put  the  same 
in  execution  without  duly  considering  when 
they  are  to  be  accomplished.  I  therefore, 


94         The  Great  Masters  of  Painting 

if  I  gave  commission  for  things  of  such  mag- 
nitude, should  like  to  know  when  I  was 
likely  to  get  them/  The  king  replied  that 
if  a  man  was  so  scrupulous  about  the  ter- 
mination of  a  work,  he  never  would  begin 
anything  at  all.  These  words  he  uttered 
with  a  certain  look,  which  implied  that  such 
enterprises  were  not  for  folk  of  little  spirit. 
I  then  began  to  say  my  say :  '  Princes  who 
put  heart  and  courage  in  their  servants,  as 
your  Majesty  does,  by  deed  and  word,  render 
undertakings  of  the  greatest  magnitude  quite 
easy.  Now  that  God  has  sent  me  so  mag- 
nificent a  patron,  I  hope  to  perform  for  him 
a  multitude  of  great  and  splendid  master- 
pieces.* 'I  believe  it,'  said  the  king,  and 
rose  from  the  table.  Then  he  called  me 
into  his  chamber,  and  asked  how  much  gold 
was  wanted  for  the  salt-cellar.  '  A  thousand 
crowns/  I  answered.  He  called  his  treasurer 
at  once,  who  was  the  Viscount  of  Orbec,  and 
ordered  him  that  very  day  to  disburse  to  me 


Cellini  95 

a  thousand  crowns  of  good  weight  and  old 
gold." 

At  a  later  date  the  artist  says,  speaking  of 
the  famous  salt-cellar  now  at  Vienna : 

"  The  king  had  now  returned  to  Paris ; 
and  when  I  paid  him  my  respects,  I  took  the 
piece  with  me.  As  I  have  already  related,  it 
was  oval  in  form,  standing  about  two-thirds 
of  a  cubit,  wrought  of  solid  gold,  and  worked 
entirely  with  the  chisel.  While  speaking  of 
the  model,  I  said  before  how  I  had  repre- 
sented Sea  and  Earth,  seated,  with  their  legs 
interlaced,  as  we  observe  in  the  case  of  firths 
and  promontories ;  their  attitude  was  there- 
fore metaphorically  appropriate.  The  Sea 
carried  a  trident  in  his  right  hand,  and  in  his 
left  I  put  a  ship  of  delicate  workmanship  to 
hold  the  salt.  Below  him  were  his  four  sea- 
horses, fashioned  like  our  horses  from  the 
head  to  the  front  hoofs ;  all  the  rest  of  their 
body,  from  the  middle  backwards,  resembled 
a  fish,  and  the  tails  of  these  creatures  were 


96         The  Great  Masters  of  Painting 

agreeably  interwoven.  Above  this  groujTthe 
Sea  sat  throned  in  an  attitude  of  pride  and 
dignity;  around  him  were  many  kinds  of 
fishes  and  other  creatures  of  the  ocean.  The 
water  was  represented  with  its  waves,  and 
enamelled  in  the  appropriate  color.  I  had 
portrayed  Earth  under  the  form  of  a  very 
handsome  woman,  holding  her  horn  of  plenty, 
entirely  nude  like  the  male  figure  ;  in  her  left 
hand  I  placed  a  little  temple  of  Ionic  archi- 
tecture, most  delicately  wrought,  which  was 
meant  to  contain  the  pepper.  Beneath  her 
were  the  handsomest  living  creatures  which 
the  earth  produces;  and  the  rocks  were 
partly  enamelled,  partly  left  in  gold.  The 
whole  piece  reposed  upon  a  base  of  ebony, 
properly  proportioned,  but  with  a  projecting 
cornice,  upon  which  I  introduced  four  golden 
figures  in  rather  more  than  half  relief.  They 
represented  Night,  Day,  Twilight,  and  Dawn. 
I  put,  moreover,  into  the  same  frieze  four 
other  figures,  similar  in  size,  and  intended  for 


Cellini  97 

the  four  chief  winds  ;  these  were  executed, 
and  in  part  enamelled,  with  the  most  exquisite 
refinement. 

"When  I  exhibited  this  piece  to  his 
Majesty,  he  uttered  a  loud  outcry  of  astonish- 
ment, and  could  not  satiate  his  eyes  with 
gazing  at  it.  Then  he  bade  me  take  it  back 
to  my  house,  saying  he  would  tell  me  at  the 
proper  time  what  I  should  have  to  do  with  it. 
So  I  carried  it  home,  and  sent  at  once  to 
invite  several  of  my  best  friends ;  we  dined 
gaily  together,  placing  the  salt-cellar  in  the 
middle  of  the  table,  and  thus  we  were  the 
first  to  use  it." 

The  painter  of  "  Benvenuto  Cellini  in  his 
Studio,"  Joseph  Nicolas  Robert-Fleury,  in- 
structed in  art  by  Girodet  and  Gros,  and  also 
by  Horace  Vernet,  spent  most  of  his  life  and 
produced  most  of  his  work  in  Paris,  where  he 
died  in  1890,  over  ninety  years  old.  More 
than  one  of  his  works  may  be  seen  in  the 
Luxembourg  and  at  Versailles.  His  sub- 


98         The  Great  Masters  of  Painting 

jects,  mostly  historic  in  their  character^in- 
clude  "Charles  V.  at  Yuste,"  "Galileo/1 
"The  Conference  at  Poissy,  1561,"  "  Clovis 
Entering  Tours,"  "The  Death  of  Titian," 
"Columbus,"  and  "The  Last  Moments  of 
Montaigne."  The  Paris  Tribunal  of  Com- 
merce contains  several  frescoes  by  Robert- 
Fleury. 

TITIAN 

"  WE  can  no  more  bring  Titian  before  us 
as  a  young  man,  than  we  can  fancy  the  an- 
gelic Raphael  old,"  says,  with  truth,  Mrs. 
Jameson. 

Few  artists  have  reached  the  age  allotted 
to  Titian,  whom  Death  passed  by  until  he 
lacked  but  about  a  year  of  being  a  century 
old.  The  great  Venetian  painter  was  a  man 
of  fifty  and  over  when  he  first  met  Charles 
V.,  his  constant  patron  for  more  than  a  score 
of  years,  but  he  outlived  the  emperor  nearly 
two  decades. 


Titian  99 

It  was  probably  in  1533,  and  at  Bologna, 
ihat  Titian  made  his  first  sketches  of  Charles, 
who  was  then  on  his  way  from  Germany  to 
embark  at  Genoa  for  Spain.  From  these 
sittings  the  artist  painted  a  full-length  por- 
trait of  the  emperor,  in  armor,  which  has 
perished,  and  another  one,  showing  him  in  a 
rich  dress,  with  a  hound  by  his  side,  which  is 
in  the  Museum  of  Madrid. 

"It  was  said  of  Charles  V.  that,  from 
the  day  on  which  he  first  saw  Titian,  he 
never  condescended  to  sit  to  any  other  mas- 
ter. The  statement  is  based  on  the  wording 
of  a  patent  which  the  emperor  issued  ta  the 
master  on  his  arrival  at  Barcelona  in  1533. 
Titian  is  described  in  this  document,  which 
bears  the  date  of  May  I9th,  as  a  man  so 
exquisitely  gifted,  that  he  deserves  the  name 
of  the  Apelles  of  his  time.  The  emperor 
declares  that  he  only  follows  the  example  of 
his  predecessors,  Alexander  the  Great  and 
Octavian,  in  selecting  him  to  be  his  painter ; 


ioo       The  Great  Masters  of  Painting 

Alexander  having  sat  to  none  but  Apglles, 
and  Octavian  having  employed  the  best  of 
all  draughtsmen,  lest  his  glory  should  be 
tarnished  by  the  monstrous  failures  of  inex- 
perienced designers :  Titian's  felicity  in  art, 
and  the  skill  he  displayed,  warrant  a  grant  of 
imperial  honors.  He  is  therefore  created  a 
Count  of  the  Lateran  Palace,  of  the  Aulic 
Council,  and  of  the  Consistory,  with  the  title 
of  Count  Palatine,  and  all  the  advantages 
attached  to  those  dignities.  He  acquires  the 
faculty  of  appointing  notaries  and  ordinary 
judges,  and  the  power  to  legitimize  the  ille- 
gitimate offspring  of  persons  beneath  the 
station  of  prince,  count,  or  baron.  His 
children  are  raised  to  the  rank  of  nobles  of 
the  empire,  with  all  the  honors  appertaining 
to  families  with  four  generations  of  ances- 
tors. Titian  himself  is  made  a  Knight  of 
the  Golden  Spur,  with  all  the  privileges  of 
knighthood,  to  wit,  the  sword,  the  chain, 
and  the  golden  spur;  and  with  this  right 


Titian  101 

the  entrance  to  court  is  conceded  —  a  privi- 
lege which  we  shall  find  Titian  frequently 
exercised." 

Such  liberality  was  the  more  noteworthy 
coming  from  one  usually  so  parsimonious  as 
Charles.  Motley  says  of  him  : 

"  The  absolute  master  of  realms  on  which 
the  sun  perpetually  shone,  he  was  not  only 
greedy  for  additional  dominion,  but  he  was 
avaricious  in  small  matters,  and  hated  to  part 
with  a  hundred  dollars.  To  the  soldier  who 
brought  him  the  sword  and  gauntlets  of 
Francis  I.,  he  gave  a  hundred  crowns,  when 
ten  thousand  would  have  been  less  than 
the  customary  present,  so  that  the  man  left 
his  presence  full  of  desperation.  The  three 
soldiers  who  swam  the  Elbe,  with  their 
swords  in  their  mouths,  to  bring  him  the 
boats  with  which  he  passed  to  the  victory 
of  Miihlberg,  received  from  his  imperial 
bounty  a  doublet,  a  pair  of  stockings,  and 
four  crowns  apiece.  His  courtiers  and  min- 


IO2       The  Great  Masters  of  Painting 

isters  complained  bitterly  of  his  habituaT  nig- 
gardliness, and  were  fain  to  eke  out  their 
slender  salaries  by  accepting  bribes  from 
every  hand  rich  enough  to  bestow  them." 

At  the  end  of  the  year  1547,  Charles  sum- 
moned Titian  to  his  court  at  Augsburg,  and 
the  painter,  then  seventy  years  old,  obeyed 
the  emperor's  behest  and  endured  the  hard- 
ships of  a  midwinter  ride  of  two  hundred 
miles  across  the  Alps.  Arriving  at  the 
imperial  city,  he  was  received  with  much 
favor  by  Charles,  who  increased  his  pension 
and  sat  to  him  for  the  equestrian  portrait 
now  at  Madrid.  This  superb  work  shows 
Charles  as  he  rode  into  the  battle  of  Miihl- 
berg  on  the  Elbe,  where  he  defeated  the 
Protestant  league,  and  captured  the  Electors 
of  Saxony  and  Hesse.  The  emperor  is  rep- 
resented in  full  armor,  with  lance  in  hand, 
"  his  vizor  up  over  the  eager,  powerful  face  — 
the  eye  and  beak  of  an  eagle,  the  jaw  of  a  bull- 
dog, the  face  of  a  born  ruler,  a  man  of  prey." 


Titian  103 

An  entire  contrast  to  this  work  is  offered 
by  another  portrait  of  Charles,  painted  by  Ti- 
tian at  Augsburg,  which  hangs  in  the  gallery 
of  Munich.  Here  the  great  emperor  is  seen 
in  repose,  seated  on  an  armchair  of  red  velvet, 
his  black,  fur-lined  robe  relieved  against  a  yel- 
low screen.  He  wears  the  order  of  the  Golden 
Fleece  and  holds  a  glove  in  his  right  hand. 

During  his  stay  in  Augsburg,  Titian  also 
painted  portraits  of  many  other  high-born 
personages,  among  them  Mary,  Queen  Dow- 
ager of  Hungary,  King  Ferdinand,  brother 
of  the  emperor,  Philibert  Emmanuel  of  Savoy, 
the  brilliant  Maurice  of  Saxony,  and  the  cruel 
Duke  of  Alva. 

Titian  was  again  called  to  Augsburg  by 
the  emperor  in  1550,  and  on  the  nth  of 
November  in  that  year  we  find  him  writing 
as  follows  to  Pietro  Aretino,  that  despicable 
but  remarkable  man,  who  at  least  was  a  faith- 
ful friend  to  our  artist,  by  whom  his  portrait 
was  painted  more  than  once. 


104       The  Great  Masters  of  Painting 

^^ 
Titian  to  Aretino  at  Venice. 

"  SlGNOR    PlETRO,    HONORED    GOSSIP  !  —  I 

wrote  by  Messer  Aeneas  that  I  kept  your 
letters  near  my  heart,  till  occasion  should 
offer  to  deliver  them  to  his  Majesty.  The 
day  after  the  Parmesan's  (Aeneas)  departure 
his  Majesty  sent  for  me.  After  the  usual 
courtesies  and  examination  of  the  pictures 
which  I  had  brought,  he  asked  for  news  of 
you  and  whether  I  had  letters  from  you  to 
deliver.  To  the  last  question  I  answered 
affirmatively,  and  then  presented  the  letter 
you  gave  me.  Having  read  it,  the  emperor 
repeated  its  contents  so  as  to  be  heard  by  his 
Highness  his  son,  the  Duke  of  Alva,  Don 
Luigi  Davila,  and  the  rest  of  the  gentlemen 
of  the  chamber,  and  as  there  was  mention  of 
me  he  asked  what  it  was  that  was  required 
of  him.  I  replied  that  at  Venice,  in  Rome, 
and  in  all  Italy  the  public  assumed  that  his 
Holiness  was  well  minded  to  make  you  .  .  . 


Titian  105 

(cardinal),  upon  which  Caesar  showed  signs 
of  pleasure  in  his  face,  saying  he  would 
greatly  rejoice  at  such  an  event,  which  could 
not  fail  to  please  you ;  and  so,  dear  brother,  I 
have  done  for  you  such  service  as  I  owe  to 
a  friend  of  your  standing,  and  if  I  should  be 
able  otherwise  to  assist  you,  I  beg  you  will 
command  me  in  every  respect.  Not  a  day 
passes  but  the  Duke  of  'Alva  speaks  to  me 
of  the  *  divine  Aretino/  because  he  loves  you 
much,  and  he  says  he  will  favor  your  interest 
with  his  Majesty.  I  told  him  that  you  would 
spend  the  world,  that  what  you  got  you  shared 
with  everybody,  and  that  you  gave  to  the 
poor  even  to  the  clothes  on  your  back,  which 
is  true,  as  every  one  knows.  I  gave  your 
letter,  too,  to  the  Bishop  of  Arras,  and  you 
shall  shortly  have  an  answer.  Sir  Philip 
Hoby  left  yesterday  for  England  by  land; 
he  salutes  you,  and  says  he  will  not  be  con- 
tent until  he  does  you  a  pleasure  himself  in 
addition  to  the  good  offices  which  he  promises 


io6       The  Great  Masters  of  Painting 

to  do  for  your  benefit  with  his  sovereign. 
Rejoice  therefore,  as  you  well  may  by  the 
grace  of  God,  and  keep  me  in  good  recollec- 
tion, saluting  for  me  Signor  Jacoho  Sansovino 
and  kissing  the  hand  of  Anichino. 

"  Your  friend  and  gossip, 

"TlZIANO." 

"From  Augsburg,  Nov.  H,  1550" 

The  main  purpose  for  which  Titian  was 
summoned  to  Augsburg  at  this  time  was  to 
paint  the  portrait  of  Charles's  eldest  son, 
afterward  Philip  II.,  then  twenty-four  years 
old.  The  first  likeness  done  of  the  prince, 
now  at  Madrid,  was  sent  to  London  when 
the  marriage  of  Philip  with  Queen  Mary  of 
England  was  in  course  of  arrangement,  and, 
so  skilfully  had  Titian  veiled  the  repellent 
qualities  of  the  prince,  did  much  to  incline 
Mary's  fancy  toward  him. 

During  this  visit  the  courtiers  saw  with 
surprise  the  familiar  intercourse  between 


Titian  107 

Charles  and  Titian,  who  held  frequent  con- 
ferences together  as  to  the  composition  of  a 
picture  which  should  embody  both  the  relig- 
ious struggle  of  the  time  and  the  emperor's 
desire  for  retirement  from  the  cares  of  state. 
When,  eight  years  later,  Charles  finally  re- 
nounced, at  Yuste,  all  the  glory  of  this  world, 
this  picture  of  the  Trinity  was  among  those 
upon  which  his  dying  eyes  last  rested. 

Stirling  Maxwell  says  :  "  His  retreat  was 
adorned  with  some  pictures,  few,  but  well 
chosen,  and  worthy  of  a  discerning  lover  of 
art,  and  the  patron  and  friend  of  Titian.  A 
composition  on  the  subject  of  the  'Trinity/ 
and  three  pictures  of  <  Our  Lady,'  by  that 
great  master,  filled  the  apartments  with 
poetry  and  beauty  ;  and  as  specimens  of  his 
skill  in  another  style,  there  were  portraits  of 
the  recluse  himself  and  of  his  empress  .... 
Long  tradition,  which  there  seems  little  rea- 
son to  doubt,  adds  that  over  the  high  altar 
of  the  convent,  and  in  sight  of  his  own  bed, 


io8       The  Great  Masters  of  Painting 

he  had  placed  that  celebrated  composition, 
called  the  '  Glory  of  Titian,'  a  picture  of  the 
Last  Judgment,  in  which  Charles,  his  wife, 
and  their  royal  children  were  represented  in 
the  master's  grandest  style,  as  conducted  by 
angels  into  life  eternal.  And  another  mas- 
terpiece of  the  great  Venetian  —  St.  Jerome 
praying  in  his  cavern,  with  a  sweet  land- 
scape in  the  distance  —  is  also  reputed  to 
have  formed  the  opposite  altar-piece  in  the 
private  oratory  of  the  emperor."  A  few  days 
before  his  death,  "  he  sent  for  a  portrait  of  the 
empress,  and  hung  for  some  time,  lost  in 
thought,  over  the  gentle  face,  which,  with  its 
blue  eyes,  auburn  hair,  and  pensive  beauty, 
somewhat  resembled  the  noble  countenance 
of  that  other  Isabella,  the  great  Queen 
of  Castile.  He  next  called  for  a  pic- 
ture of  Our  Lord  praying  in  the  garden,  and 
then  for  a  sketch  of  the  '  Last  Judgment/ 
by  Titian.  Having  looked  his  last  upon  the 
image  of  the  wife  of  his  youth,  it  seemed  as 


Titian  109 

if  he  were  now  bidding  farewell,  in  the  con- 
templation of  these  other  favorite  pictures,  to 
the  noble  art  which  he  had  loved  with  a  love 
which  cares,  and  years,  and  sickness  could 
not  quench,  and  that  will  ever  be  remem- 
bered with  his  better  fame." 

We  know  not  upon  what  historic  data, 
if  any,  rests  the  anecdote  illustrated  by  the 
painter,  Carl  Becker.  It  relates  that  once, 
when  the  great  Venetian  was  at  work  upon  a 
portrait  of  Charles,  he  dropped  his  brush  and 
the  emperor  stooped  to  pick  it  up.  This  was 
in  those  days  a  supreme  condescension  from 
a  prince  to  a  painter,  one  which  doubtless 
more  than  compensated  — in  the  judgment  of 
their  world  —  for  the  harassing  and  intermi- 
nable delays  in  making  payment  for  his  work 
of  which  Titian  was  so  often  forced  to 
complain. 


1 10       The  Great  Masters  of  Painting 

^-^ 
PALISSY 

«  O  Palissy !  within  thy  breast 
Burned  the  hot  fever  of  unrest ; 
Thine  was  the  prophet's  vision,  thine 
The  exaltation,  the  divine 
Insanity  of  noble  minds, 
That  never  falters  nor  abates, 
But  labors  and  endures  and  waits 
Till  all  that  it  foresees  it  finds, 
Or  what  it  cannot  find  creates  !  " 

—  Longfellow. 

IF  the  Bastile  still  existed,  no  spot  within 
its  massive  walls  would  be  more  worthy  of 
note  than  the  cell  wherein  Bernard  Palissy 
breathed  his  last,  a  victim  of  religious  intoler- 
ance. It  was  in  1589  that  the  great  potter 
passed  away,  having,  after  a  life  of  ennobling 
toil,  reached  the  age  of  eighty  years.  Henry 
III.,  the  worthless  king  who  left  Palissy  to 
die  in  prison,  though  his  mother,  the  cruel 
Catherine  de  Medicis,  had  protected  the  Hu- 
guenot potter  during  the  massacre  of  St. 


Palissy  III 

Bartholomew,  perished  the  same  year  by  the 
dagger  of  Jacques  Clement,  a  Dominican 
friar. 

Palissy,  who  was  not  only  an  artist,  but  a 
chemist,  naturalist,  botanist,  and  scientist, 
and  also  an  author,  has  left  us  among 
his  writings  a  most  graphic  account  of  the 
struggles  he  underwent  in  endeavoring  to 
learn  the  art  of  making  white  enamel. 
He  says :  "  It  is  more  than  five  and  twenty 
years  since  there  was  shown  to  me  an 
earthen  cup,  turned  and  enamelled  with  so 
much  beauty,  that  from  that  time  I  entered 
into  controversy  with  my  own  thoughts,  re- 
calling to  mind  several  suggestions  that  some 
people  had  made  to  me  in  fun,  when  I  was 
painting  portraits.  Then,  seeing  that  these 
were  falling  out  of  request  in  the  country 
where  I  dwelt,  and  that  glass-painting  was 
also  little  patronized,  I  began  to  think  that  if 
I  should  discover  how  to  make  enamels  I 
could  make  earthen  vessels  and  other  things 


112       The  Great  Masters  of  Painting 

very  prettily,  because  God  had  gifted  "me 
with  some  knowledge  of  drawing  ;  and  there- 
after, regardless  of  the  fact  that  I  had  no 
knowledge  of  clays,  I  began  to  seek  for  the 
enamels,  as  a  man  gropes  in  the  dark. 
Without  having  heard  of  what  materials  the 
said  enamels  were  composed,  I  pounded,  in 
those  days,  all  the  substances  which  I  could 
suppose  likely  to  make  anything ;  and  having 
pounded  and  ground  them,  I  bought  a  quan- 
tity of  earthen  pots,  and  after  having  broken 
them  in  pieces,  I  put  some  of  the  materials 
that  I  had  ground  upon  them,  and  having 
marked  them,  I  set  apart  in  writing  what 
drugs  I  had  put  upon  each,  as  a  memoran- 
dum ;  then,  having  made  a  furnace  to  my 
fancy,  I  set  the  fragments  down  to  bake,  that 
I  might  see  whether  my  drugs  were  able  to 
produce  some  whitish  color ;  for  I  sought 
only  after  white  enamel,  because  I  had  heard 
it  said  that  white  enamel  was  the  basis  of  all 
others.  Then,  because  I  had  never  seen 


Palissy  113 

earth  baked,  nor  could  I  tell  by  what  degree 
of  heat  the  said  enamel  should  be  melted,  it 
was  impossible  for  me  to  get  any  result  in 
this  way,  though  my  chemicals  should  have 
been  right ;  because  at  one  time  the  mass 
might  have  been  heated  too  much,  at  another 
time  too  little  ;  and  when  the  said  materials 
were  baked  too  little  or  burnt,  I  could  not  at 
all  tell  the  reason  why  I  met  with  no  success, 
but  would  throw  blame  on  the  materials, 
which  sometimes,  perhaps,  were  the  right 
ones,  or  at  least  could  have  afforded  me  some 
hint  for  the  accomplishment  of  my  inten- 
tions, if  I  had  been  able  to  manage  the  fire 
in  the  way  that  my  materials  required.  But 
again,  in  working  thus,  I  committed  a  fault 
still  grosser  than  that  above  named ;  for  in 
putting  my  trial  -  pieces  in  the  furnace,  I 
arranged  them  without  consideration,  so  that 
if  the  materials  had  been  the  best  in  the 
world,  and  the  fire  also  the  fittest,  it  was  im- 
possible for  any  good  result  to  follow.  Thus, 


114       The  Great  Masters  of  Painting 

having  blundered  several  times  at  a  greaf^ex- 
pense,  and  through  much  labor,  I  was  every 
day  pounding  and  grinding  new  materials, 
and  constructing  new  furnaces,  which  cost 
much  money,  and  consumed  my  wood  and 
my  time. 

"When  I  had  fooled  away  several  years 
thus  imprudently  with  sorrow  and  sighs  be- 
cause I  could  not  at  all  arrive  at  my  inten- 
tion, and,  remembering  the  money  spent,  I 
resolved,  in  order  to  avoid  such  large  ex- 
penditure, to  send  the  chemicals  that  I 
would  test  to  the  kiln  of  some  potter  ;  and, 
having  settled  this  within  my  mind,  I  pur- 
chased afresh  several  earthen  vessels,  and, 
having  broken  them  in  pieces,  as  was  my 
custom,  I  covered  three  or  four  hundred  of 
the  fragments  with  enamel,  and  sent  them 
to  a  pottery  distant  a  league  and  a  half  from 
my  dwelling,  with  a  request  to  the  potters 
that  they  would  please  to  permit  those  trials 
to  be  baked  within  some  of  their  vessels. 


Palissy  115 

This  they  did  willingly ;  but  when  they  had 
baked  their  batch,  and  came  to  take  out  my 
trial-pieces,  I  received  nothing  but  shame 
and  loss,  because  they  turned  out  good  for 
nothing ;  for  the  fire  used  by  those  potters 
was  not  hot  enough,  and  my  trials  were  not 
put  into  the  furnace  in  the  required  manner, 
and  according  to  my  science.  And  because 
I  had  at  that  time  no  knowledge  of  the  rea- 
son why  my  experiments  had  not  succeeded, 
I  threw  the  blame  (as  I  before  said)  on  my 
materials;  and,  beginning  afresh,  I  made  a 
number  of  new  compounds  and  sent  them  to 
the  same  potters,  to  do  with  as  before ;  so  I 
continued  to  do  several  times,  always  with 
great  loss  of  time,  confusion,  and  sorrow.  .  .  . 
"  Seeing  that  I  had  been  able  to  do 
nothing,  whether  in  my  own  furnaces  or  in 
those  of  the  before -mentioned  potters,  I 
broke  about  three  dozen  earthen  pots,  —  all 
of  them  new,  —  and  having  ground  a  large 
quantity  of  different  materials,  I  covered  all 


1 1 6       The  Great  Masters  of  Painting 

the  bits  of  the  said  pots  with  my  chemicals, 
laid  on  with  a  brush  ;  but  you  should  under- 
stand that,  in  two  or  three  hundred  of  those 
pieces,  there  were  only  three  covered  with 
each  kind  of  compound.  Having  done  this, 
I  took  all  these  pieces  and  carried  them  to 
a  glass-house,  in  order  to  see  whether  my 
chemicals  and  compounds  might  not  prove 
good  when  tried  in  a  glass  furnace.  Then, 
since  these  furnaces  are  much  hotter  than 
those  of  potters,  the  next  day,  when  I  had 
them  drawn  out,  I  observed  that  some  of  my 
compounds  had  begun  to  melt ;  and  for  this 
cause  I  was  still  more  encouraged  to  search 
for  the  white  enamel  upon  which  I  had  spent 
so  much  labor. 

"Concerning  other  colors  I  did  not  give 
myself  any  trouble ;  this  little  symptom, 
which  I  then  perceived,  caused  me  to  work 
for  the  discovery  of  the  said  white  enamel 
for  two  years  beyond  the  time  already  men- 
tioned, during  which  two  years  I  did  nothing 


Palissy  117 

but  go  and  come  between  my  house  and 
adjacent  glass-houses,  aiming  to  succeed  in 
my  intentions.  God  willed  that  when  I  had 
begun  to  lose  my  courage,  and  was  gone  for 
the  last  time  to  a  glass-furnace,  having  a  man 
with  me  carrying  more  than  three  hundred 
kinds  of  trial-pieces,  there  was  one  among 
those  pieces  which  was  melted  within  four 
hours  after  it  had  been  placed  in  the  fur- 
nace, which  trial  turned  out  white  and 
polished  in  a  way  that  caused  me  such  joy 
as  made  me  think  I  was  become  a  new 
creature;  and  I  thought  that  from  that 
time  I  had  the  full  perfection  of  the  white 
enamel ;  but  I  was  very  far  from  having 
what  I  thought.  This  trial  was  a  very 
happy  one  in  one  sense,  but  very  unhappy 
in  another  —  happy,  because  it  gave  me 
entrance  upon  the  ground  which  I  have 
since  gained ;  but  unhappy,  because  it  was 
not  made  with  substances  in  the  right  meas- 
ure or  proportion.  I  was  so  great  an  ass 


1 1 8       The  Great  Masters  of  Painting 

in  those  days,  that  directly  I  had  mad£  the 
said  enamel,  which  was  singularly  beautiful,  I 
set  myself  to  make  vessels  of  earth,  although 
I  had  never  understood  earths ;  and  having 
employed  the  space  of  seven  or  eight  months 
in  making  the  said  vessels,  I  began  to  erect 
for  myself  a  furnace  like  that  of  the  glass- 
workers,  which  I  built  with  more  labor  than 
I  can  tell ;  for  it  was  requisite  that  I  should 
be  the  mason  to  myself,  that  I  should  temper 
my  own  mortar,  that  I  should  draw  the 
water  with  which  it  was  tempered;  also  it 
was  requisite  that  I  should  go  myself  to  seek 
the  bricks  and  carry  them  upon  my  back, 
because  I  had  no  means  to  pay  a  single  man 
for  aid  in  this  affair.  I  succeeded  with  my 
pots  in  the  first  baking,  but  when  it  came  to 
the  second  baking,  I  endured  suffering  and 
labor  such  as  no  man  would  believe.  For 
instead  of  reposing  after  my  past  toil,  I  was 
obliged  to  work  for  the  space  of  more  than  a 
month,  night  and  day,  to  grind  the  materials 


Palissy  119 

of  which  I  had  made  that  beautiful  enamel 
at  the  glass-furnace ;  and  when  I  had  ground 
them,  I  covered  therewith  the  vessels  that  I 
had  made ;  this  done,  I  put  the  fire  into  my 
furnace  by  two  mouths,  as  I  had  seen  done 
at  the  glass-houses;  I  also  put  my  vessels 
into  the  furnace,  to  bake  and  melt  the 
enamel  which  I  had  spread  over  them  ;  but 
it  was  an  unhappy  thing  for  me,  for  though 
I  spent  six  days  and  six  nights  before  the 
said  furnace,  feeding  it  with  wood  inces- 
santly through  its  two  mouths,  it  was  not 
possible  to  make  the  said  enamel  melt,  and 
I  was  like  a  man  in  desperation.  And 
although  quite  stupefied  with  labor,  I  coun- 
selled to  myself,  that  in  my  enamel  there 
might  be  too  little  of  the  substance  which 
should  make  the  others  melt ;  and,  seeing 
this,  I  began  once  more  to  pound  and  grind 
the  before  -  named  materials,  all  the  time 
without  letting  my  furnace  cool.  In  this 
way  I  had  double  labor  to  pound,  grind,  and 


1 20       The  Great  Masters  of  Painting 

maintain  the  fire.  When  I  had  thuiT  com- 
pounded my  enamel,  I  was  forced  to  go 
again  and  purchase  pots,  in  order  to  prove 
the  said  compound  —  seeing  that  I  had  lost 
all  the  vessels  which  I  had  made  myself. 
And  having  covered  the  new  pieces  with  the 
said  enamel,  I  put  them  into  the  furnace, 
keeping  the  fire  still  at  its  height ;  but  there- 
upon occurred  to  me  a  new  misfortune, 
which  caused  great  mortification  —  namely, 
that  the  wood  having  failed  me,  I  was  forced 
to  burn  the  palings  which  maintained  the 
boundaries  of  my  garden  ;  which  being  burnt 
also,  I  was  forced  to  burn  the  tables  and  the 
flooring  of  my  house,  to  cause  the  melting 
of  the  second  composition.  I  suffered  an 
anguish  that  I  cannot  speak,  for  I  was  quite 
exhausted  and  dried  up  by  the  heat  of  the 
furnace  —  it  was  more  than  a  month  since 
my  shirt  had  been  dry  upon  me.  Further  to 
console  me,  I  was  the  object  of  mockery; 
and  even  those  from  whom  solace  was  due 


Palissy  121 

ran  crying  through  the  town  that  I  was 
burning  my  floors  !  And  in  this  way  my 
credit  was  taken  from  me,  and  I  was  re- 
garded as  a  madman. 

"  Others  said  that  I  was  laboring  to  make 
false  money,  which  was  a  scandal  under  which 
I  pined  away,  and  slipped  with  bowed  head 
through  the  streets  like  a  man  put  to  shame  ; 
I  was  in  debt  in  several  places,  and  had  two 
children  at  nurse,  unable  to  pay  the  nurses ; 
no  one  gave  me  consolation,  but,  on  the  con- 
trary, men  jested  at  me,  saying  it  was  right 
for  him  to  die  of  hunger,  seeing  that  he  had 
left  off  following  his  trade.  All  these  things 
assailed  my  ears  when  I  passed  through  the 
street ;  but  for  all  that  there  still  remained 
some  hope  which  encouraged  and  sustained 
me,  inasmuch  as  the  last  trials  had  turned 
out  tolerably  well.  .  .  .  Other  faults  and  ac- 
cidents occurred;  as,  when  I  had  made  a 
batch,  it  might  prove  to  be  too  much  baked, 
or  another  time  too  little,  and  all  would  be 


122       The  Great  Masters  of  Painting 

lost  in  that  way.  I  was  so  inexperienced, 
that  I  could  not  discern  the  too  much,  or  too 
little.  One  time  my  work  was  baked  in 
front,  but  not  baked  properly  behind;  an- 
other time  I  tried  to  obviate  that,  and  burnt 
my  work  behind,  but  the  front  was  not  baked 
at  all ;  sometimes  it  was  baked  on  the  right 
hand  and  burnt  on  the  left;  sometimes  my 
enamels  were  put  on  too  thinly,  sometimes 
they  were  too  thick,  which  caused  me  great 
losses ;  sometimes,  when  I  had  in  the  fur- 
nace enamels  different  in  color,  some  were 
burnt  before  the  others  had  been  melted.  In 
short,  I  blundered  for  the  space  of  fifteen  or 
sixteen  years.  When  I  had  learnt  to  guard 
against  one  danger,  there  came  another,  about 
which  I  had  not  thought.  During  this  time 
I  made  several  furnaces  which  caused  me 
great  losses  before  I  understood  the  way  to 
heat  them  equally.  At  last  I  found  means 
to  make  several  vessels  of  different  enamels 
intermixed  in  the  manner  of  jasper.  That 


Palis  sy  123 

fed  me  for  several  years ;  but,  while  feeding 
upon  these  things,  I  sought  always  to  work 
onward  with  expenses  and  disbursements  — 
as  you  know  that  I  am  doing  still.  When  I 
had  discovered  how  to  make  my  rustic  pieces, 
I  was  in  greater  trouble  and  vexation  than 
before ;  for  having  made  a  certain  number  of 
rustic  vases  and  having  put  them  to  bake,  my 
enamels  turned  out  some  beautiful  and  well 
melted,  others  ill  melted ;  others  were  burnt, 
because  they  were  composed  of  different 
materials,  because  they  were  fusible  in  dif- 
ferent degrees  —  the  green  of  the  lizards  was 
burnt  before  the  color  of  the  serpents  were 
melted,  and  the  color  of  the  serpents,  lob- 
sters, tortoises,  and  crabs  was  melted  before 
the  white  had  attained  any  beauty.  All  these 
defects  caused  me  such  labor  and  heaviness 
of  spirit,  that  before  I  could  render  my 
enamels  fusible  at  the  same  degree  of  heat, 
I  thought  that  I  would  be  at  the  door  of  my 
sepulchre ;  also,  while  laboring  at  such  affairs, 


124       The  Great  Masters  of  Painting 

I  was,  for  the  space  of  ten  years,  so  wasted 
in  my  person,  that  there  was  no  form  nor 
prominence  of  muscle  on  my  arras  and  legs ; 
also  the  said  legs  were  throughout  of  one 
size,  so  that  the  garters  with  which  I  tied 
my  stockings,  were  at  once,  when  I  walked, 
down  upon  my  heels,  the  stockings  too.  I 
often  walked  about  the  fields  of  Xaintes,  con- 
sidering my  miseries  and  weariness,  and  above 
all  things  that  in  my  own  house  I  could  have 
no  peace  or  do  anything  that  was  considered 
good.  I  was  despised  and  mocked  by  all; 
nevertheless,  I  made  some  vessels  of  different 
colors  which  kept  house  tolerably,  but,  in  do- 
ing this,  the  diversities  of  earth,  which  I 
thought  to  forward  myself,  brought  me  more 
loss  in  a  little  time  than  all  the  accidents 
before.  For  having  made  several  vessels 
of  different  earths,  some  were  burnt  before 
the  others  were  baked ;  some  received  the 
enamel,  and  proved  afterward  extremely 
suited  to  my  purpose;  others  deceived  me 


Palissy  125 

in  all  my  enterprises.  Then,  because  my 
enamels  did  not  work  well  together  on  the 
same  thing,  I  was  deceived  many  times ; 
whence  I  derived  always  vexation  and  sor- 
row. Nevertheless,  the  hope  that  I  have 
caused  me  to  proceed  with  my  work  so  like 
a  man,  that  often,  to  amuse  people  who  came 
to  see  me,  I  did  my  best  to  laugh,  although 
within  me  all  was  very  sad." 

The  picture  of  Palissy  which  we  give  was 
painted  by  Jean  Hegesippe  Vetter.  Vetter, 
who  is  a  Parisian,  born  in  1820,  was  in- 
structed in  art  by  Steuben,  and  his  first 
picture  appeared  at  the  Salon  in  1842.  He 
has  been  honored  by  having  at  least  two 
of  his  paintings,  "  Moliere  and  Louis  XIV.," 
and  "Mazarin,"  purchased  by  the  state. 
"Palissy"  was  painted  in  1861,  made  a  great 
success,  and  was  sold  for  twenty-five  thousand 
francs. 


126       The  Great  Masters  of  Painting 


TINTORETTO 

THE  home  life  of  the  painter  of  the 
"  Miracle  of  St.  Mark "  was,  without  doubt, 
a  happy  one.  Seven  children  moved  within 
its  circle :  two  sons,  of  whom  Domenico  is 
well  known  as  an  artist,  and  five  daughters. 
Marietta,  her  father's  favorite  and  his  pupil, 
was  not  only  gifted  as  a  portrait  painter,  but 
skilled  in  music,  being  a  fine  performer  on 
the  lute  and  a  talented  singer.  She  seems  to 
have  been  the  soul  of  the  artistic  gatherings 
which  took  place  in  her  father's  house  — 
where  might  be  seen  such  artists  as  Bassano, 
Paul  Veronese,  and  Schiavoni,  together  with 
Alessandro  Vittoria,  the  sculptor,  and  where 
music  was  represented  by  Giuseppe  Zarlino, 
the  chapelmaster  of  St.  Mark's. 

Marietta  became  the  wife  of  one  Mario 
Augusta,  a  German  jeweller,  but  did  not  live 
to  reach  the  high  rank  in  art  which  her 


Tintoretto  127 

early  successes  indicated.  She  fell  into  ill 
health  and  died  in  1590,  when  but  thirty 
years  of  age,  four  years  before  her  fa- 
ther's death.  They  rest  together  in  the 
church  of  S.  Madonna  dell'  Orto,  in 
Venice. 

Cogniet's  striking  picture  of  Tintoretto 
painting  a  portrait  of  his  daughter,  as  she  lies 
dead  before  him,  hangs  in  the  Museum  of 
Bordeaux.  We  know  nothing  of  the  where- 
abouts of  the  great  artist's  portrait  of  Mari- 
etta after  death,  if  it  still  exists.  The 
Museum  of  Madrid  has  a  portrait  of  a 
fair  young  Venetian  holding  a  rose  in 
her  hand,  which  is  from  the  brush  of 
Tintoretto,  and  is  thought  to  be  a  likeness 
of  his  favorite  daughter,  but  this  was  done 
from  life. 

Mrs.  Margaret  J.  Preston's  fine  poem, 
"Tintoretto's  Last  Painting,"  should  be 
associated  with  Cogniet's  picture,  and  we 
give  it  entire. 


128       The  Great  Masters  of  Painting 


"  Oh,  bitter,  bitter  truth !  I  see  it  now, 
Heightening  the  lofty  calmness  of  her  face, 
Until  it  seems  transfigured.     On  her  brow 
The  gray  mists  settle.     I  begin  to  trace 
The  whitening  circle  round  her  lips  ;  the  fine 
Curve  of  the  nostril  pinches,  ...  ah,  the  sign 
Indubitable !  I  dare  thrust  aside 
No  longer  what  ye  oft  in  vain  have  tried 
To  force  upon  my  sight,  that  day  by  day 
My  Venice  lily  drops  her  leaves  away, 
While  I  have  seen  no  fading,  —  I,  who  should 
Have  known  it  earliest. 

II. 

"  Only  thirty  years 

For  this  unfolding  flush  of  womanhood 
To  fruiten  into  ripeness  :     Oh,  if  tears 
Could  bribe,  how  soon  my  harvested  fourscore 
Should  take  the  thirty's  place !     For  I  have  had 
Life's  large  ingathering,  and  I  crave  no  more. 
But  she,  ...  she  just  begins  to  taste  how  glad 
The  mellower  clusters  are,  —  when  see !  —  the  woe ! 
One  blast  of  mortal  ravage,  and  here  lies, 

Before  my  startled  eyes, 
The  laden  vine,  uprooted  at  a  blow. 


Tintoretto  129 

in. 

«  My  Paradiso  does  not  hold  a  face 

That  is  not  richer  through  my  darling's  gift : 

One  angel  has  the  hushed,  adoring  lift 

Of  her  arched  lids ;  another  wears  the  grace 

That  dimples  round  her  flexile  mouth ;  and  one  — 

The  nearest  to  the  Mother  and  her  Son  — 

Borrows  the  tawny  glory  of  her  hair : 

And    yet,  —  how    strange !  —  as   full   and   perfect 

whole, 

Her  form,  her  features,  all  the  breathing  soul 
Of  her  I  have  not  pictured  otherwhere. 

IV. 

«  Tommaso,  bring  my  colors  hither.     Haste ! 

We  have  no  time  to  waste. 
Draw  back  the  curtain ;  in  the  fairest  light 
Set  forth  my  easel?  -  - 1  am  blind  to-night, 
Blind  through  my  weeping,  but  I  must  not  lose 
Even  the  shadow's  shadow.     Now  they  prop 
Her   for    the    breeze :     There !     just   as    I    would 

choose, 

They  smooth  the  pillows.     Dear  Ottavia,  drop 
Your  Persian  scarf  across  her  couch,  that  so 
Its  wine-red  flecks  may  interfuse  the  cold 
Blanch  of  the  linen's  deaded  snow. 


1 30       The  Great  Masters  of  Painting 

v. 

«Nay,  —  hold! 

Give  her  no  hint ;  forbear  to  let  her  know 
That  the  old  doting  father  fain  would  snatch 
This  phantom  from  death's  grip.     My  child!     My 

child ! 

My  inmost  soul  rebels,  unreconciled ! 
Heart  sinks,  hand  palsies,  while  I  strive  to  match 
Such  beatific  loveliness  with  blot 
Of  earthly  color.     All  my  tints  but  seem 
Ashen  and  muddy  to  reflect  the  gleam 
Of  those  celestial  eyes  fast-fixt  on  what 
Spirits  alone  can  see.     Ah  !  now,  —  she  smiles  — 

VI. 

"  Look  on  my  canvas :  if  the  wish  beguiles 

Not  judgment,  I  have  caught  a  glimmer  here 

Of  the  old  shine  that  used  to  flash  so  clear 

Across  our  evening  circle,  —  like  the  last 

Long  sunset  ray  aslant  our  gray  lagunes, 

When  she  would  lean,  with  Veronese  anear, 

Beside  the  sill,  and  listen  to  the  tunes 

Of  gondoliers  who  'neath  our  windows  passed. 

Now  softly  bid  Ottavia  loosen  out 

Her  golden-thridded  hair ;  and  bring  a  rose 

From  yonder  vase,  and  let  her  fingers  close 

—  Poor,  fragile  fingers !  —  the  green  stem  about. 


Tintoretto  131 

VII. 

"  Yea,  — -  so !     But  all   is  blurred  through   rush   of 

tears : 

Only  the  vanish'd,  mocking  long  ago, 
Frescoed  with  memories  of  her  happy  years, 
Betwixt  me  and  the  canvas  seems  to  glow. 

And  now,  —  and  now  ! 

Her  hair  rays  off,  —  an  aureole  round  her  brow : 
And  see !  Tommaso,  see  !  I  understand 
Not  what  I  do ;  for,  in  her  slackening  hand, 
I've  put  a  palm-branch  where  I  meant  the  rose 
Should  drop  its  spark  of  warmth  the  whiteness  o'er ; 
How  wan  she  looks !     Surely  the  pallor  grows,  — 
Nay,  push  the  easel  back,  ...  I  can  no  more ! " 


Leon  Cogniet  was  born  at  Paris  in  1794, 
and  studied  under  Guerin,  winning  tbe  Great 
Prize  of  Rome  in  1817.  He  spent  the  rest 
of  his  long  life  (he  died  in  1880)  in  painting 
portraits  and  historical  subjects,  and  in  teach- 
ing. His  "Marius  among  the  Ruins  of 
Carthage,"  and  his  "  Numa  "  were  purchased 
by  the  government.  The  "  National  Guard 
Marching  to  Join  the  Army  in  1792,"  is  at 


132       The  Great  Masters  of  Painting 

Versailles,  together  with  the  "  Battle  o£-Ri- 
voli,"  and  other  military  pictures.  One  of 
Cogniet's  best  known  works  was  "The  Mas- 
sacre of  the  Innocents,"  which  he  exhibited 
in  1824. 

CALLOT 

THE  first  appearance  in  France  of  the 
strange  and  mysterious  people  called  "gip- 
sies," was  in  August,  1427,  when  a  tribe  of 
132  souls,  under  a  "duke,"  a  "count,"  and 
ten  "knights,"  startled  the  people  of  Paris. 
Hundreds  of  years  before  this  time,  the  Per- 
sian poet  Ferdusi  wrote  :  "  For  that  which  is 
unclean  by  nature  thou  canst  entertain  no 
hope :  no  washing  will  turn  the  gipsy  white," 
and  ere  long  the  presence  of  this  singular 
race  became  distasteful  to  the  French  people. 
Numberless  crimes  and  misdemeanors  were 
imputed  to  them,  and  Francis  I.,  following  the 
example  of  other  monarchs,  decreed  their  ban- 
ishment. Under  Charles  IX.,  in  1561,  exter- 


Callot  133 

urination  by  fire  and  steel  was  ordered  against 
them,  yet  in  spite  of  the  severity  of  their  per- 
secutors, these  "  masterful  beggars  "  managed 
somehow  to  retain  a  foothold  in  France. 

As  an  instance  of  this,  we  can  cite  the  fact 
—  apparently  well  authenticated  —  that  more 
than  forty  years  after  the  sentence  of  destruc- 
tion launched  against  them  under  the  ninth 
Charles,  young  Jacques  Callot  of  Nancy,  great 
etcher-to-be,  joined  a  band  of  roving  gipsies 
bound  for  Italy,  the  fatherland  of  art. 

How  this  came  about  is  thus  related : 
"  Of  course,  as  Callot  grew  up,  he  began  to 
manifest  his  love  for  art  in  the  usual  ortho- 
dox manner.  Giotto  neglected  his  sheep  for 
his  drawing,  and  Gainsborough  put  landscape 
sketches  into  his  copy-book ;  Rembrandt 
drew  portraits  on  the  sacks  in  his  father's 
mill ;  and  so  one  need  not  be  astonished  to 
learn  that  little  Jacques  is  using  his  pencil,  in 
season  and  out  of  season,  particularly  out  of 
season  in  the  precise  eyes  of  Messer  Jean 


134       The  Great  Masters  of  Painting 

Callot,  his  father.  He,  worthy  man,%:on- 
siders  the  art  of  painting  merely  a  useful 
adjunct  to  the  noble  science  of  heraldry.  If 
the  boy  would  only  confine  himself  to  the 
emblazoning  of  azure,  and  vert,  and  sang,  in 
the  proper  quarters  of  the  various  shields 
where  they  should  be,  all  would  be  well ;  but, 
alas!  the  young  rogue  has  found  out  an 
azure  in  the  sky,  and  a  vert  beneath  his  feet, 
and  a  sang  in  the  glowing  west  when  the  sun 
goes  down,  —  fonder  of  drawing  picturesque 
little  peasants  than  of  investigating  the  pedi- 
gree of  the  proudest  Lorraine,  alive  or  dead. 
The  poor  king-at-arms  has  had  a  project  in 
that  wise  head  of  his,  ever  since  he  first  saw 
Jacques  lying  in  his  mother's  arms,  a  helpless 
bundle  of  humanity.  His  other  sons  have 
taken  themselves  to  various  callings ;  this 
one  shall  succeed  him  in  his  office,  and  live 
and  die  in  the  service  of  Lorraine,  like  he 
and  his  father  before  him.  But  even  kings- 
at-arms  are  liable  to  be  thwarted  in  their 


Callot  135 

dearest  wishes,  and  Jean,  with  anger  and  vex- 
ation,  confessed  to  himself  that  this  son  of 
his,  who  is  probably  even  now  sketching  some 
eccentric  vagabond,  or  copying  and  enjoying 
the  grotesque  carving  on  some  quaint  gar- 
goyle, is  not  a  very  likely  person  to  perform 
the  high  and  important  functions  of  herald-at- 
arms  to  his  Highness  of  Lorraine,  with  sat- 
isfaction either  to  himself  or  his  princely 
employer. 

"  Meanwhile  Jacques  is  getting  as  dissatis- 
fied as  his  father  at  the  state  of  things. 
Ren6e  Brunehault's  family  had  produced 
painters,  and  probably  her  stories  of  their 
lives  had  inflamed  the  imagination  of  her  son 
with  those  brilliant  dreams  of  Italy,  the 
fatherland  of  art,  of  which  his  mind  was  full, 
—  Italy,  the  home  of  painting,  of  Raphael 
and  Michael  Angelo,  of  Filippo  Lippi  and 
Andrea  del  Sarto ;  Rome,  where  all  the 
treasures  of  ancient  art  were  stored,  —  oh, 
that  he  could  get  to  Italy,  and  become  a 


136       The  Great  Masters  of  Painting 

humble  guest  at  this  feast  of-  the  immortals ! 
Heraldry,  with  its  eccentric  zoology  and  in- 
harmonious coloring,  becomes  more  and  more 
distasteful  to  the  young  genius,  who  hopes  to 
astonish  all  the  world  with  the  glories  of  his 
art. 

"To  Italy  he  resolves  to  go  at  all  costs, 
and,  with  a  heavy  heart  and  a  light  purse,  he 
leaves  the  paternal  domicile,  and  sets  forth 
upon  his  journey  after  fame  and  fortune, 
often  as  perilous  and  as  unsuccessful  an 
enterprise  as  the  search  of  the  San  Grail. 
The  world  was  all  before  him  where  to 
choose,  but  one  object  alone  animated  him: 
to  see  the  fair  land  of  Italy,  and  become  a 
famous  painter ;  and  ere  he  had  proceeded 
far,  his  grief  at  parting  from  home  and 
fatherland  was  absorbed  in  the  anticipation 
of  the  career  he  had  painted  for  himself  in 
all  the  glowing  colors  of  the  springtime's 
fancy.  It  is  written,  '  Man  shall  not  live  by 
bread  alone/  but  it  is  equally  certain  man 


Callot  137 

cannot  subsist  entirely  without  that  article, 
and  poor  Jacques's  light  purse  is  getting 
lighter  every  day ;  but  what  then  ?  when  the 
youthful  blood  bounds  quickly  along  our 
veins,  we  are  not  given  to  despair ;  while 
there  is  life  there  is  hope.  Moreover,  this 
golden  land  of  hope  is  getting  nearer  every 
day.  But  the  daily  bread !  Hunger  is  the 
most  powerful  subjugator  of  all  enthusiasm, 
—  political,  religious,  and,  indeed,  of  every 
sort  whatever,  —  and  is  also  a  quick  destroyer 
of  all  social  pride  and  distinctions  of  caste. 
Therefore  we  need  not  be  surprised  to  hear 
that  Callot  joined  himself  to  one  of  those 
bands  of  merry  vagrants  who  then  wandered 
all  over  Europe,  the  Bohemians  of  France, 
the  Gitanos  of  Spain,  the  Zingari  of  Italy, 
the  Gipsies  of  our  own  land ;  that  mysteri- 
ous race  whose  origin  has  defied  the  most 
industrious  investigation, 

"  In  later  life,  Callot  appears  to  have  had 
this  portion  of  his  career  often  in  his  mind, 


138       The  Great  Masters  of  Painting 

and  in  one  of  his  wonderful  etchings  he  rials 
portrayed  a  scene,  probably  that  of  his  first 
introduction  to  his  vagabond  friends.  The 
band  are  halting  at  the  outskirts  of  a  village, 
and  are  taking  possession  of  an  empty  hay- 
loft, on  the  roof  of  which  a  cat  is  pursuing  a 
bird,  totally  unconscious  of  the  proximity  of 
a  dog,  who  exhibits  vicious  intentions  on 
pussy's  tail,  the  dog  itself  being  unaware  of 
an  avenging  stick  poised  in  mid-air.  Some 
pigs,  previous  inhabitants  of  the  loft,  are  caus- 
ing dire  disasters  among  the  crowd ;  in  the 
centre  the  high  life  of  gipsydom  is  grouped, 
surveying  the  operators  with  a  truly  aristo- 
cratic air.  In  the  front,  some  stragglers 
have  just  come  up,  and  a  handsome  blade  is 
assisting  a  demoiselle  to  descend  from  her 
horse,  with  a  gallantry  worthy  of  Louis 
Bien-Aimd ;  and  near  these  sits  Jacques  Cal- 
lot,  with  silken  doublet  and  feathered  hat, 
making  pictorial  notes  of  the  queer  folk  sur- 
rounding him,  and  by  his  side,  survying  his 


Callot  139 

work  with  admiring  wonder,  is  a  charming 
gipsy  girl,  whose  flowing  hair  and  arch  looks 
might  have  tempted  good  St.  Anthony  him- 
self. 

"  In  another  of  his  works,  '  The  Gipsies  on 
the  March/  we  have  a  further  reminiscence 
of  this  period  of  his  life,  —  gipsy  men,  fierce 
and  swaggering;  gipsy  children,  precociously 
imitating  their  sires ;  gipsy  women,  with  an 
air  of  tender  gracefulness  about  them,  re- 
deeming their  squalid  rags  and  gewgaw 
finery.  Questionable  company  hast  thou 
fallen  into,  Jacques  !  What  would  father  Jean 
say,  could  he  behold  thee  a  recognised  mem- 
ber of  this  society  of  outcasts,  without  law  or 
religion?  people  to  whom  the  sixth  com- 
mandment is  an  obsolete  act,  whose  hand  is 
against  every  one,  and  having  every  one's 
hand  against  them  ?  See  what  comes  of  diso- 
bedience, my  son !  Such,  perhaps,  in  his 
dreams,  are  the  words  which  young  Callot 
hears  addressed  to  him  by  the  king-at-arms. 


140       The  Great  Masters  of  Painting 

But  Rascaldom  and  Bohemianism  are^not 
without  redeeming  traits  in  young  eyes,  par- 
ticularly eyes  as  fond  of  the  grotesque  and 
the  eccentric  as  those  of  that  respectable 
herald's  own  son. 

"At  all  events,  we  are  travelling  toward 
the  wished-for  haven,"  and  so  we  see 
him  merrily  trudging  away  beside  a  sturdy 
"Bohemian,"  who  bears  both  sword  and 
crutch  over  his  shoulder,  his  pretence  of 
lameness  for  the  time  put  away.  Dauntless 
twelve-year-old  Jacques  is  in  light  marching 
order,  having,  so  far  as  we  can  see,  no  bag- 
gage but  his  sketch-book.  Perchance,  how- 
ever, the  wagon  behind  carries  his  small  be- 
longings. Perhaps,  also,  the  boy  repaid  the 
gipsies  for  their  aid  and  company  by  sharing 
with  them  the  proceeds  from  any  sketches  he 
might  sell  on  his  way  to  Rome. 

Aime"  de  Lemud,  the  French  artist  whose 
pencil  drew  our  picture  of  the  boy  Callot, 
was  himself  a  native  of  Lorraine,  of  which 


Rubens  141 

dukedom  Nancy  was  formerly  the  capital. 
De  Lemud,  who  is  probably  most  familiar  to 
us  from  his  picture  of  the  dreaming  Bee- 
thoven, died  an  old  man  in  1887,  after  win- 
ning success  and  honors  both  as  painter, 
engraver,  and  lithographer.  In  the  Museum 
of  Nancy  is  his  "  Fall  of  Adam,"  and  that  of 
Metz  contains  his  "  Prisoner." 


RUBENS 

Two  happy  marriages  fell  to  the  lot  of 
Rubens.  His  first  union  was  with  Isabella 
Brant,  and  took  place  in  1609,  when  the 
painter  was  thirty-two  and  his  bride  eighteen 
years  old.  After  living  together  in  peace 
and  mutual  content  for  over  sixteen  years, 
the  couple  were  separated  by  death,  who 
claimed  Isabella  as  his  own  in  1626.  Her 
loss  was  deeply  felt  and  sincerely  mourned 
by  Rubens,  as  can  well  be  seen  in  the  fol- 
lowing lines  taken  from  a  letter  he  wrote 


142       The  Great  Masters  of  Painting 

to   his   friend   Dupuy   soon  after   Isabella's 
decease : 

"  In  truth  I  have  lost  an  excellent  com- 
panion, and  one  worthy  of  all  affection,  for 
she  had  none  of  the  faults  of  her  sex.  Never 
displaying  bitterness  or  weakness,  her  kind- 
ness and  loyalty  were  perfect ;  and  her  rare 
qualities,  having  made  her  beloved  during 
her  life,  have  caused  her  to  be  regretted  by 
all  after  her  death.  Such  a  loss,  it  seems  to 
me,  ought  to  be  deeply  felt,  and  since  the 
only  remedy  for  all  evil  is  the  oblivion  that 
time  brings,  I  must  undoubtedly  look  to  time 
for  consolation.  But  it  will  be  very  difficult 
for  me  to  separate  the  grief  caused  by  this 
bereavement,  from  the  memory  of  one  whom 
I  must  respect  and  honor  as  long  as  I  live. 
A  journey  might  perhaps  serve  to  take  me 
away  from  the  sight  of  the  many  objects 
which  necessarily  renew  my  grief,  for  she 
alone  still  fills  my  henceforth  empty  house, 
she  alone  lies  by  my  side  on  my  desolate 


Rubens  143 

couch ;  whereas  the  new  sights  that  a  jour- 
ney affords  occupy  the  imagination  and  fur- 
nish no  material  for  the  regrets  that  are  for 
ever  springing  up  in  one's  heart.  But  I 
should  travel  in  vain,  for  I  shall  have  myself 
for  companion  everywhere." 

Four  years  passed,  and  Rubens  again 
sought  matrimonial  happiness.  His  first 
wife  had  been  his  niece  by  marriage,  and  so, 
curiously  enough,  was  his  second  spouse, 
Helena  Fourment,  whom  he  married  on 
December  6,  1630.  She  was  a  girl  of  six- 
teen, he  a  man  of  fifty-three,  handsome, 
famous,  ennobled,  well-to-do,  —  and  gouty. 

Paul  Mantz  says:  "From  the  day  of  his 
marriage  with  his  second  wife,  Helena  Four- 
ment, on  the  6th  of  December,  1630,  a 
sort  of  St.  Martin's  summer  began  in  Ru- 
bens's  life,  and  seemed  to  lend  to  his  heart 
and  to  his  genius  the  impulse  of  another 
springtime.  Apparently,  too,  he  was  eager 
to  share  the  delight  he  took  in  her  with  all 


144       The  Great  Masters  of  Painting 

the  world,  and  she  was  for  many  years^and, 
indeed,  to  the  end  of  his  life,  continually  in 
his  mind  and  in  his  eyes.  He  never  wearied 
of  reproducing  her  young  grace.  The  por- 
traits of  her  are  numberless." 

Houbraken,  speaking  of  her  beauty,  called 
her  a  new  Helen,  and  said  that  she  was  a 
valuable  possession  for  the  artist,  "  since  she 
spared  him  the  expense  of  other  models." 
It  is  certain  that  her  portrait,  more  or  less 
exact,  may  be  seen  in  many  of  the  ideal 
works  produced  by  her  husband  after  their 
marriage.  In  these  Helena's  fair  face  looks 
out  at  us  from  under  many  an  alias  —  now 
as  St.  Cecilia  before  her  organ,  now  as 
Andromeda  chained  to  the  rock,  or  as  the 
despairing  Dido  about  to  stab  herself. 
Again,  she  masquerades  as  a  Bathsheba  or 
Susanna,  as  nymph  or  shepherdess,  or  as 
one  of  the  charming  dames  in  the  "  Garden 
of  Love"  of  the  Prado,  that  masterpiece 
which  Philip  IV.  so  treasured.  Like  Rem- 


Rubens  145 

brandt's  beloved  Saskia,  Rubens's  Helena 
dominates  her  husband's  brush,  but,  more 
fortunate  than  the  great  Dutchman,  the 
great  Fleming  was  permitted  to  cherish  his 
adored  model  to  the  end  of  his  days. 

"A  fine  picture  in  the  Munich  Gallery 
represents  both  husband  and  wife  in  the 
early  period  of  their  marriage,  walking  in 
the  garden  of  their  house.  The  artist  wears 
a  broad-brimmed  felt  hat,  and  a  black  doublet 
striped  with  gray.  The  refined,  intelligent 
head,  the  proudly  turned  up  moustaches,  the 
attractive  countenance,  the  distinguished 
bearing,  incline  us  to  regard  him  as  a  young 
man ;  a  few  silver  threads  in  the  fair  beard 
show  us  our  mistake.  His  arm  is  in  Helena's  ; 
she  is  painted  almost  full  face,  and  her  pink 
complexion  is  protected  from  the  sun  by  a 
large  straw  hat.  She  looks  delightfully  in- 
genuous in  all  the  bloom  of  her  sixteen  years. 
Her  hair,  with  its  golden  reflected  lights,  is 
cut  in  a  fringe  over  the  forehead  like  that  of 


146       The  Great  Masters  of  Painting 

a  boy,  and  escapes  round  her  face  Tn  fair 
curls.  Her  black  bodice  opens  over  a  chem- 
isette ;  her  dull  yellow  skirt  is  turned  up  over 
a  gray  petticoat,  and  a  white  apron  falls  over 
both.  She  holds  a  feather  fan  in  her  hand, 
and  a  pearl  necklace  sets  off  the  whiteness 
of  her  throat.  She  half  turns  toward  a 
young  page,  entirely  dressed  in  red,  who 
follows  her  bareheaded.  The  couple  ap- 
proach a  portico,  beneath  which  a  table  is 
spread  beside  the  statues  and  busts  which 
decorate  it ;  some  bottles  have  been  set  to 
cool  in  a  large  basin  on  the  ground.  The 
building,  so  fantastic  in  its  architecture, 
which  is  an  eccentric  mixture  of  Italian  style 
and  Flemish  taste,  is  the  pavilion  the  artist 
erected  in  his  garden  not  far  from  the  house, 
and  often  introduced  in  his  pictures.  Near 
at  hand  an  old  woman  feeds  two  peacocks ; 
a  turkey-cock  struts  about  with  his  spouse, 
and  a  friendly  dog  runs  after  their  young 
ones.  The  air  is  warm,  the  lilacs  are  in 


Rubens  147 

bloom ;  the  young  orange-trees  have  been 
released  from  their  winter  quarters,  and  the 
flower-beds  are  gay  with  many-colored  tulips. 
At  the  side,  the  waters  of  a  fountain,  like- 
wise found  in  many  of  Rubens's  pictures, 
fall  into  a  basin.  The  pair  are  about  to  seat 
themselves  under  this  portico,  surrounded  by 
these  domestic  animals,  with  the  blue  sky 
and  the  flowers  before  their  eyes,  wholly 
given  up  to  a  happiness  which  is  echoed  in 
the  holiday  mood  of  surrounding  nature. 

"When  we  have  thoroughly  enjoyed  this 
beautiful  picture,  our  eyes  involuntarily  turn 
to  the  other  canvas  in  the  same  room  of  the 
gallery,  in  which,  on  an  equally  fine  spring 
day,  Rubens  painted  himself  in  a  honeysuckle 
arbor  with  his  wife  Isabella,  whom  he  had  so 
affectionately  loved,  who  was  so  intimately 
associated  with  his  life,  and  whose  loss  he 
deplored  four  years  earlier  in  the  touching 
letter  to  Dupuy  quoted  above.  In  the  same 
involuntary  fashion  it  occurs  to  us  that  the 


148       The  Great  Masters  of  Painting 

former  marriage  was  better  assorted ; 
intellectual  sympathy  must  have  been  greater 
than  it  could  have  been  with  a  young  girl 
who  passed  so  suddenly  from  the  seclusion  of 
her  father's  house  to  so  conspicuous  a,  posi- 
tion. It  would  be  interesting  to  learn  some- 
thing of  Helena's  character,  of  her  culture 
and  education,  of  her  influence  on  the  great 
man  who  loved  her.  But  no  information  on 
these  points  is  to  be  found  either  in  the  acts  of 
her  life,  in  Rubens's  correspondence,  or  in  the 
testimony  of  contemporaries.  But  the  large 
number  of  portraits  of  her  that  Rubens 
painted  bear  eloquent  witness  to  the  strength 
and  persistence  of  his  love.  There  is  scarcely 
a  gallery  of  importance  without  a  portrait  of 
her,  and  at  Munich  there  are  four.'1 

One  of  these  shows  Madame  Rubens,  at 
full  length,  sitting  clothed  in  green  and 
violet,  with  her  little  son,  nude  save  for  a 
black  cap  and  feather,  on  her  lap.  Another 
presents  her  seated  facing  us  in  an  armchair 


Rubens  149 

under  a  colonnade,  with  an  Eastern  rug 
beneath  her  feet  —  a  purple  drapery  hangs 
behind  her,  her  dress  of  black  satin  opens 
over  an  underskirt  of  white  silk  brocade 
embroidered  with  gold.  A  high  lace  collar, 
feathered  fan,  pearl  necklace,  and  jewelled 
stomacher  complete  the  sumptuous  picture. 

She  appears  again  in  a  full-length  portrait 
in  the  Louvre,  seated,  embracing  her  little 
son,  her  infant  daughter  standing  by.  The 
same  child  is  seen  once  more  in  a  picture 
belonging  to  Baron  Alphonse  de  Roths- 
child, which  is  called  "  Rubens  and  his  wife 
teaching  one  of  their  children  to  walk."  In 
the  Louvre  example,  Helena  wears  a  white 
dress  and  a  gray  felt  hat  with  plumes ;  in 
Baron  Rothschild's  canvas,  her  gown  is  of 
black  velvet.  The  baron  also  owns  a  full- 
length  portrait  of  Rubens's  second  wife  in 
a  Spanish  dress  of  black  satin  with  lilac 
ribbons,  attended  by  a  page  dressed  in  red. 
For  these  two  pictures,  which  were  formerly 


150       The  Great  Masters  of  Painting 

at  Blenheim,  Baron  Rothschild  paid  the  4Duke 
of  Marlborough  ,£55,000. 

The  royal  collection  at  Windsor  has  a 
beautiful  half-length  portrait  of  Helena  hold- 
ing her  hands  crossed  in  front  of  her.  In 
this  she  wears  a  yellow  satin  dress  with 
slashed  sleeves,  a  black  mantle,  a  rich  lace 
ruff,  and  a  pearl  necklace.  St.  Petersburg 
preserves  a  fine  full-length  of  her  standing 
with  a  fan  in  her  hand,  and  at  Vienna  is  the 
celebrated  picture  —  called  "  The  Pelisse  "  — 
showing  Helena  on  her  way  to  the  bath,  clad 
only  in  a  fur-trimmed  cloak.  This  portrait 
Rubens  always  retained,  and  at  his  death  in 
1640  he  specially  bequeathed  it  to  his  widow, 
who,  by  the  way,  married  again  in  1645. 
She  was  only  twenty-six  at  the  time  of  the 
death  of  Rubens,  by  whom  she  became  the 
mother  of  five  children,  and  her  second 
husband  was  one  Jean  Baptiste  van  Brock- 
hoven,  an  Antwerp  alderman  and  man  of 
rank  and  substance.  Helena  survived  her 


Brauwer  151 

first   husband  many  years,  not   dying   until 

1673- 

Finally  we  are  reminded  that  the  master's 
picture  of  "The  Virgin  and  Saints,"  which 
forms  the  altar-piece  of  the  Rubens  chapel 
in  the  church  of  St.  Jacques  at  Antwerp,  is 
said  to  contain  portraits  of  both  the  wives  of 
Rubens,  who  has  there  represented  himself 
as  St.  George.  In  this  chapel  the  illustrious 
painter  was  interred. 

BRAUWER 

THE  face  of  the  artist  in  Papperitz's  pic- 
ture of  Brauwer  is  so  kindly  and  pleasant  that 
one  is  glad  to  believe  the  latest  accounts 
of  him,  which  assert  that  he  was  not  such 
a  worthless  toper  as  older  writers  have  made 
him  out  to  be. 

Doctor  Johnson  said,  "  Who  drives  fat 
oxen  should  himself  be  fat,"  and  perchance 
this  Dutch  painter  was  (dis)  credited  with 


152       The  Great  Masters  of  Painting 

much  of  the  drinking,  gambling,  and  quarrell- 
ing which,  so  far  as  his  own  life  was  concerned, 
went  on  only  in  his  pictures.  For  these  were 
the  kind  of  subjects  —  pot-house  brawls  and 
drinking  bouts,  dice-throwing  and  maudlin  rev- 
els, —  which  he  always  painted,  and  painted 
so  superbly  that  genuine  works  from  his 
hand  are  most  highly  prized.  Brauwer  died 
when  but  little  over  thirty,  and  his  pictures 
are  quite  rare. 

Van  dam  has  written  a  vivacious  account 
of  an  adventurous  episode  in  Brauwer's  life 
which  is  well  worth  quoting. 

"  It  is  a  sunny  afternoon  in  May,  1634, 
though  very  little  of  its  cheerfulness  pene- 
trates into  the  gloomy  cell  where  we  meet 
once  more  with  poor  Adriaan.  It  is  part  of 
the  prison  constructed  in  one  of  the  angles 
of  the  citadel,  which  was  built  by  the  Duke 
of  Alva  to  keep  rebellious  Antwerpers  in 
check.  How  comes  he  there  ?  Simply 
enough.  He  has  been  arrested  as  a  spy  by 


Brauwer  153 

the  Spanish  sbirri.  They  must  have  been 
very  bad  judges  of  physiognomy.  A  spy  is  a 
crafty  being,  whose  apparent  confidence  and 
assumed  tranquillity  always  more  or  less 
betray  his  circumspection  and  his  fear.  Our 
man  is  the  very  reverse ;  he  is  indiscretion  per- 
sonified. Those  that  have  seen  his  portrait, 
painted  by  himself,  in  the  gallery  at  Dresden, 
will  be  in  a  position  to  judge  how  much  he 
had  in  common  with  a  professional  espion. 

"  Nevertheless,  there  he  is  safe  enough 
under  lock  and  key.  Not  that  he  takes  the 
matter  au  serieux.  To  beguile  the  tedious- 
ness  of  his  imprisonment  he  intones  now  and 
then  a  snatch  of  a  Dutch  or  Flemish  patriotic 
song,  or  else  empties  enormous  goblets  of 
beer,  —  that  is,  when  he  can  get  them,  — 
chaffs  his  gaolers,  draws  their  caricatures  on 
the  walls ;  in  one  word,  plays  the  devil  to 
such  an  extent  that  his  next-door  neighbor,  a 
captive  as  well  as  he,  and  who  is  no  less 
a  personage  than  Albert  de  Ligne,  Prince  de 


154       The  Great  Masters  of  Painting 

«^ 

Barbancon,  Comte  d'Aigremont  and  de  la 
Roche,  Knight  of  the  Golden  Fleece,  etc., 
becomes  interested  in  him,  and  obtains,  by 
his  influence,  the  permission  of  the  governor 
that  Brauwer  shall  come  and  keep  him  (the 
prince)  company. 

"Next  day  finds  the  newly  made  friends 
seated  at  the  same  table,  a  large  apoplectic 
jug  of  amber-tinted  beer  between  them  ;  in 
the  distance,  through  the  small  windows, 
appears  at  intervals  the  tan-colored  face  of 
some  Castilian  or  Austrian,  some  caballero,  as 
noble  as  the  King  of  Spain  himself,  but 
obliged  to  occupy  the  humiliating  position  of 
warder  to  the  Flemings  —  these  *  Gueiixj  as 
they  contemptuously  call  them,  never  dream- 
ing that  these  beggars  would  almost  become 
their  masters  in  a  few  years. 

"The  prince  is  recounting  his  adventures 
of  love  and  war  : 

"  *  Twice  he  fights  his  battles  over, 
Thrice  he  slays  the  slain.' 


Brauwer  155 

"The  painter  narrates  the  story  of  his 
young  and  checkered,  though  not  altogether 
joyless,  life.  While  still  young,  he  designed 
flowers  and  birds  on  caps,  which  his  mother 
sold  to  the  peasant  women  to  buy  bread  ;  but. 
even  as  a  child  he  was  already  fond  of 
accompanying  his  father  to  the  ale-house,  and 
a  humer  le  piot,  as  Rabelais  has  it. 

"He  tells  him  how  Hals,  struck  by  his 
precocious  talents,  offered  to  teach  him ; 
how  he  began  to  instruct  him  in  the  vari- 
ous technicalities,  which  the  most  happy 
genius,  if  left  to  itself,  could  never  master, 
and  which  can  be  taught  by  experience  alone; 
how,  when  his  master  saw  that  his  lessons 
were  bearing  fruit,  he  changed  his  conduct 
toward  him,  at  the  suggestion  of  Mrs.  Hals, 
a  pitiless  Megaera,  who  made  him  isolate  the 
boy  away  from  his  comrades ;  how  he  was 
shut  up  in  a  miserable  garret,  with  hardly 
any  clothes  to  cover  him,  and  where,  almost 
starved  to  death,  he  was  forced,  day  after 


156       The  Great  Masters  of  Painting 

<^ 
day,  to  throw  off  small  pictures,  which  were 

sold  by  Hals  at  a  great  price,  and  of  the 
merits  of  which  he  (Brauwer)  was  absolutely 
ignorant ;  how,  following  the  example  of 
their  elder,  his  fellow-pupils  bought  drawings 
of  him,  which  they  paid  for  at  the  rate  of 
a  penny  a  figure,  and  which  they  after- 
ward disposed  of  for  hundreds  of  guilders; 
how,  tired  of  such  an  existence,  he  made  his 
way,  at  the  instigation  of  Van  Ostade,  his 
only  true  friend,  to  Amsterdam,  where  he 
arrived,  footsore  and  penniless,  but  full  of 
confidence  in  his  youth  and  the  future ;  how 
he  sold  his  first  great  work,  'A  Quarrel 
between  Peasants  and  Soldiers/  to  M.  de 
Vernandois,  who  gave  him  a  hundred  duca- 
tons  for  it ;  how  that  gentleman  told  him 
that  his  productions  were  already  noted  and 
valued ;  how  he  was  stupefied  by  the,  to  him, 
enormous  sum,  and,  in  the  exuberance  of  his 
feelings,  ran  home,  emptied  the  bag  of  gold 
on  his  pallet,  and  rolled  himself  round  in  it; 


Brauwer  157 

how  he  spent  it  in  ten  days,  exclaiming,  when 
the  last  piece  was  gone,  « Thank  God,  I  have 
got  rid  of  that  load,  and  feel  all  the  lighter 
for  it.' 

"  Much  more  does  he  tell,  which  space  for- 
bids me  to  reproduce  in  detail ;  but  through- 
out the  whole  tale  he  shows  the  same 
philosophical  espteglerie>  which  never  left 
him  till  his  death. 

"  He  flavors  his  rtcit  with  sundry  anec- 
dotes, some  of  which  are  so  good  that  I 
cannot  forbear  to  retail  one  or  two. 

"  Shortly  after  his  first  picture  was  sold,  his 
parents,  to  whom  he  was  very  good,  expos- 
tulated with  him  upon  the  meanness  of  his 
attire.  Forthwith  he  goes  to  the  tailor  and 
orders  a  splendid  justaucorps  of  velvet,  a 
cloak  embroidered  with  gold  lace  and  satin, 
and  everything  to  match.  The  change  pro- 
duced its  effect  immediately.  He  received  an 
invitation  to  a  wedding  party.  In  the  midst 
of  the  dinner,  while  all  the  guests  are  at 


158       The  Great  Masters  of  Painting 

Si-' 

table,  he  chooses  a  dish,  the  sauce  of  which 
appears  to  him  the  richest,  and  throws  it 
over  his  garments,  apostrophising  them  thus  ; 
'  It's  you  that  ought  to  fare  the  best,  because 
you,  not  I,  were  invited.'  Diogenes  could 
not  have  surpassed  the  severity  of  the 
reproof. 

"  One  more,  and  I  resume  my  sketch. 

"After  being  robbed  of  everything  he 
possessed,  he  returns  to  Amsterdam  in  a 
most  pitiable  state.  He  provides  himself,  on 
credit,  with  a  suit  of  plain  linen,  covers  it,  by 
the  aid  of  his  brush,  with  the  most  delicious 
flowers,  and  takes  a  walk  in  the  public  prome- 
nade. Every  one's,  but  especially  the  ladies', 
attention  is  drawn  upon  him,  and  he  is 
pestered  with  requests  for  the  address  of  the 
manufacturer  of  the  material.  His  answer 
is  a  sponge  and  some  water.  With  a  few 
strokes  he  restores  rile  de  satin  of  the  curd 
of  Meudon. 

"  Thus  chat  the  prince  and  the  artist.    The 


Brauwer  159 

former  encourages  him  with  cheering  words, 
and  stimulates  him  to  work.  Brauwer  asks 
for  brushes  and  colors,  and  reproduces,  there 
and  then,  on  the  canvas  a  sketch  of  the 
soldiers  who  are  guarding  them,  sitting  at 
play  in  the  next  room. 

"The  picture  finished,  Albert  de  Ligne, 
mistrustful  of  his  own  judgment,  sends  for 
Rubens,  who  no  sooner  caught  sight  of  it 
than,  like  Praxiteles  of  old,  when  Apelles  had 
been  to  visit  him  in  his  absence,  and  left,  as 
the  only  sign  of  his  call,  a  figure  drawn  on 
the  wall,  he  exclaimed,  '  This  is  Brauwer's ! 
No  one  could  have  treated  a  scene  with  so 
much  dash  and  perfection.'  And  on  the  spot 
he  offers  six  hundred  guilders  for  it. 

"  The  reader  may  easily  imagine  that  the 
Prince  de  Barbancon  did  not  part  with  his 
little  treasure. 

"The  Lord  of  Stein  did  not  stop  there. 
He  took  steps  to  obtain  Brauwer's  freedom, 
lodged  him  in  his  own  house,  admitted  him 


160       The  Great  Masters  of  Painting 

"5^ 
to  his  table,   and  provided  for  all  his  wants. 

But  the  inveterate  Bohemianism  of  Adriaan 
could  not  reconcile  itself  to  the  regularity  of 
the  great  painter's  household.  The  elegance 
of  the  latter 's  manner,  the  high-bred  tone  of 
his  usual  companions  and  friends,  were  insup- 
portable to  Brauwer,  whose  every  movement, 
whose  lightest  words  were  at  variance  and  in 
discord  with  his  present  surroundings.  He 
already  began  to  regret  his  garret  at  Haarlem, 
where,  at  least,  no  one  censured  his  doings 
or  criticised  his  bearing.  Unable  to  hold 
out  any  longer,  he  sells  his  clothes,  flees 
from  his  benefactor  as  from  a  tyrant,  and 
replunges  with  ecstasy  into  disorder  and 
debauch." 

Georg  Papperitz,  born  at  Dresden  in 
1846,  has  painted  many  popular  pictures, 
among  which  may  be  mentioned  "Richard 
Wagner  at  Bayreuth,"  "Romeo  and  Juliet," 
and  "  Queen  of  Heaven." 


Van  Dyck  161 


VAN   DYCK 

"  IN  the  month  of  April  Van  Dyck  was  in 
London  '  for  good.'  He  found  a  temporary 
home  with  his  friend  Geldorp  in  Blackfriars. 
All  the  precinct  was  astir  at  the  coming  to 
the  peculiar  home  of  artists  in  London  of 
one  of  the  foremost  men  of  all  his  time. 
Shortly,  Whitehall  was  astir  also ;  king  and 
painter  stood  in  the  presence  of  each  other. 
Van  Dyck  was  a  cavalier  in  bearing,  with 
tact  and  taste.  To  such  a,  man  Charles  was, 
of  course,  gracious.  The  monarch  lodged 
the  artist  at  the  expense  of  the  Crown  (other- 
wise, at  the  cost  of  the  people).  Inigo  Jones 
was  commissioned  to  fashion  a  dwelling  for 
him  in  Blackfriars,  and  a  country  house  at 
Eltham.  Ere  a  few  months  had  passed,  the 
artist,  thus  housed  by  a  sovereign,  was  named 
'Painter  in  Ordinary  to  His  Majesty/  That 
knighthood  was  added  to  his  employment, 


1 62       The  Great  Masters  of  Painting 

yet  not  wanted  to  dignify  it,  was  a  natural 
consequence.  Charles  not  only  touched  Van 
Dyck  gaily  on  the  shoulder,  but  threw  over 
it  a  gold  chain,  from  which  hung  the  king's 
portrait,  surrounded  by  diamonds. 

"Van  Dyck  had  earned  the  honor  by 
glorious  work.  Within  a  few  months  of  his 
arrival  he  had  painted  a  large  family  picture, 
representing  the  king,  queen,  Prince  of 
Wales,  and  Princess  Mary,  for  one  hundred 
pounds.  He  had,  moreover,  executed  the 
portraits  of  the  king,  the  French  king's 
brother,  the  Archduchess  Isabella,  the  Prince 
and  Princess  of  Orange,  at  twenty  pounds 
each.  For  the  same  reward  he  painted 
a  'Vitellius,'  and  for  a  fourth  of  the  sum  he 
'  mended '  a  Galba.  A  warrant  was  issued 
for  the  payment  of  the  total.  This  pay- 
ment, the  knighthood,  the  chain,  and  the 
*  diamond  portrait,'  were  graceful  acknowl- 
edgments of  merit.  Van  Dyck,  seeing  that 
the  king  was  resolved  to  treat  him  as  a  gen- 


Van  Dyck  163 

tleman,  was  equally  resolved  to  act  up  to  the 
standard,  and  live  like  a  prince. 

"  But  he  worked  like  a  man  to  enable  him 
to  keep  this  state.  .  .  . 

"Van  Dyck  and  fashion  ruled  the  hour. 
His  studio  in  Blackfriars  was  graced  with  as 
noble  company  as  Whitehall ;  indeed,  with 
the  same  company.  The  king  himself  was 
often  there,  and  with  him  the  artist's  other 
illustrious,  and  perhaps  more  liberal,  patrons, 
Strafford,  Northumberland  (no  longer  in  the 
Tower),  Pembroke,  Somerset,  and  a  dozen 
other  of  the  splendid  nobility  of  the  time. 
Fancy  may  reproduce  that  studio,  with  its 
aristocratic  inmates,  silent  in  the  presence  of 
Charles,  but  loud  enough  in  his  absence,  or 
with  his  license  to  speak,  being  present. 
Some  paid  homage  of  ultra-gallantry  to  Mar- 
garet Leman.  Others  gave  words  of  conde> 
scending  praise,  now  and  then,  to  Van  Dyck's 
accomplished  assistants,  who,  at  various  times, 
were  to  be  found  schooling  themselves  in  his 


164       The  Great  Masters  of  Painting 

studio,  and  learning  how  to  add  value 4o  their 
works  by  giving  to  them  the  name  of  their 
master. 

"  Van  Dyck  was  as  much  at  his  ease  in 
the  palaces  and  noble  homes  of  England  as 
princes  and  nobles  were  in  the  painter's 
studio." 

Though  impartial  history  forbids  us  to 
accept  Charles  I.  as  having  been  all  that 
his  portraits  by  Van  Dyck  tempt  us  to 
believe,  the  cavalier  king  was  a  true  and 
loving  husband,  and  a  fond  father  to  his 
children. 

Of  them  Van  Dyck  painted  several  groups, 
some  of  which  remain  among  the  best  pro- 
ductions of  the  great  Flemish  artist. 

Herr  Schneider  has  given  us  a  picture  of 
Van  Dyck  at  work  upon  the  portraits  of  the 
three  eldest  children  of  Charles.  The  king's 
eldest  son,  afterward  Charles  II.,  stands  near 
the  easel,  his  sister  Mary  is  playing  with  a 
dog,  and  James,  Duke  of  York,  the  youngest 


Van  Dyck  165 

of  the  three,  is  being  coaxed  by  some  of  the 
ladies-in-waiting  to  pose  for  the  painter,  with 
an  apple  in  his  hands. 

In  the  gallery  at  Turin  may  be  seen  a 
superb  group  by  Van  Dyck  which  depicts 
these  three  infants,  and  was  painted  in  1635. 
Charles  in  a  scarlet  dress  lays  his  hand  upon 
the  head  of  a  fine  dog ;  next  him  is  the 
Princess  Mary  in  white  satin,  and  then  comes 
Master  James,  —  unfortunate  king-to-be,  — 
wearing  a  quaint  cap  and  a  blue  silk  frock, 
and  holding  an  apple  between  his  hands.  It 
is  this  last  little  figure  which,  separated  from 
the  painted  group  or  reproduced  from  the 
drawing,  we  see  so  often  under  the  name  of 
"  Baby  Stuart."  Jules  Guiffrey  says  of  this 
picture  that  "  Such  a  work  would  alone  suffice 
for  the  glory  of  a  museum." 

The  royal  collection  at  Windsor  has  a 
group  by  Van  Dyck,  done  in  1637,  which 
includes  two  more  of  the  children  of  Charles 
and  Henrietta  Maria.  These  are  Elizabeth 


1 66       The  Great  Masters  of  Painting 

<d-' 
and  Anne,  two  princesses  who  did  not  live  to 

reach  womanhood. 

The  little  Anne  died  in  the  winter  of  1640, 
at  the  age  of  four  years,  and  a  touching  story 
is  related  of  her  last  moments.  Just  before 
her  death,  being  told  that  she  ought  to  pray, 
the  little  innocent  answered  that  she  did  not 
think  she  could  say  her  long  prayer  (meaning 
the  Lord's  Prayer),  but  she  would  say  her 
short  one,  and  repeated,  "  Lighten  mine  eyes, 
O  Lord,  that  I  sleep  not  the  sleep  of  death." 

Princess  Elizabeth,  after  being  imprisoned 
in  St.  James's  Palace,  was  carried  to  Caris- 
brooke  Castle,  in  the  Isle  of  Wight,  after 
her  father's  execution.  Here,  with  her  little 
brother,  Henry,  Duke  of  Gloucester,  as  her 
only  companion,  she  lived  until  the  8th  of 
September,  1650,  when  she  fell  a  victim  to 
a  fever.  "She  expired  alone,"  says  one 
writer,  "  sitting  in  her  apartments  at  Caris- 
brooke  Castle,  her  fair  cheek  resting  on  a 
Bible  —  the  last  gift  of  her  murdered  father, 


Van  Dyck  167 

and  which  had  been  her  only  consolation  in 
the  last  sad  months  of  her  life."  Elizabeth 
was  in  her  fifteenth  year  only.  She  was 
buried  at  Newport,  where  Queen  Victoria 
erected  a  memorial  to  her  in  the  church. 

Van  Dyck  painted  a  picture,  now  at 
Amsterdam,  of  her  elder  sister,  Mary,  when 
ten  years  old,  standing  beside  her  future 
husband,  William,  Prince  of  Orange,  a  hand- 
some boy  of  about  eleven.  He  died  suddenly, 
of  smallpox,  when  only  twenty-two,  and  three 
days  later  Mary  became  the  mother  of  a  son, 
afterward  William  III.  of  England. 

Charles  II.  was  painted  several  times  when 
a  boy  by  Van  Dyck.  Miss  Strickland,  in 
her  life  of  Henrietta  Maria,  prints  a  letter 
from  the  queen  to  her  old  friend,  Madame 
St.  George,  written  soon  after  the  birth  of 
Charles. 

"  This  letter  proves  that  Henrietta,  despite 
of  the  proverb  which  affirms  that  even  the 
crows  think  their  own  nestlings  fair,  was  not 


1 68       The  Great  Masters  of  Painting 

«^ 
blind  to  the  fact  that  her  boy  was  a  fright. 

The  likeness  of  some  tawny  Provencal  ances- 
tor of  Henri  Quatre  must  have  revived  in 
the  person  of  the  Prince  of  Wales,  for  the 
elegant  Charles  I.  and  the  beautiful  Henri- 
etta had  no  right  to  expect  so  plain  a  little 
creature  as  their  first  born.  It  is  amusing 
enough  to  read  the  queen's  description  of 
the  solemn  ugliness  of  her  fat  baby : 

"'The  husband  of  the  nurse  of  my  son 
going  to  France  about  some  business  of  his 
wife,  I  write  you  this  letter  by  him,  believing 
that  you  will  be  very  glad  to  ask  him  news 
of  my  son,  of  whom  I  think  you  have  seen 
the  portrait  that  I  sent  to  the  queen  my 
mother.  He  is  so  ugly,  that  I  am  ashamed 
of  him ;  but  his  size  and  fatness  supply  the 
want  of  beauty.  I  wish  you  could  see  the 
gentleman,  for  he  has  no  ordinary  mien ; 
but  he  is  so  serious  in  all  that  he  does,  that 
I  cannot  help  deeming  him  far  wiser  than 
myself.1 " 


Guido  169 


GUIDO 

IT  may  safely  be  asserted  that  the  best 
known  picture  by  Guido  is  the  head  of  Bea- 
trice Cenci,  in  the  Barberini  Palace,  at 
Rome,  and  it  is  also  without  doubt  one  of 
the  most  widely  famous  portraits  ever  painted 
—  perhaps  the  most  famous. 

Shelley's  tragedy  of  "  The  Cenci,"  and  the 
words  of  Hawthorne  and  Dickens  have  done 
much  to  fix  the  touching  face  in  the  memo- 
ries of  English-speaking  people.  Hawthorne 
thought  "no  other  such  magical  effect  can 
ever  have  been  wrought  by  pencil,"  and 
named  it  "the  very  saddest  picture  ever 
painted  or  conceived ; "  and  Dickens  called 
it  "a  picture  almost  impossible  to  be  for- 
gotten." 

Shelley  wrote  that  "  The  portrait  of  Bea- 
trice at  the  Colonna  Palace  is  most  admi- 
rable as  a  work  of  art ;  it  was  taken  by 


170       The  Great  Masters  of  Painting 

Guide  during  her  confinement  in  "prisoa 
But  it  is  most  interesting  as  a  just  represen- 
tation of  one  of  the  loveliest  specimens  of 
the  workmanship  of  nature.  There  is  a 
fixed  and  pale  composure  upon  the  features ; 
she  seems  sad  and  stricken-down  in  spirit, 
yet  the  despair  thus  expressed  is  lightened 
by  the  patience  of  gentleness.  Her  head  is 
bound  with  folds  of  white  drapery,  from 
which  the  yellow  strings  of  her  golden  hair 
escape,  and  fall  about  her  neck.  The  mould- 
ing of  her  face  is  exquisitely  delicate  ;  the 
eyebrows  are  distinct  and  arched ;  the  lips 
have  that  permanent  meaning  of  imagination 
and  sensibility  which  suffering  has  not  re- 
pressed, and  which  it  seems  as  if  death 
scarcely  could  extinguish.  Her  forehead  is 
large  and  clear ;  her  eyes,  which  we  are  told 
were  remarkable  for  their  vivacity,  are 
swollen  with  weeping,  and  lustreless,  but 
beautifully  tender  and  serene.  In  the  whole 
mien  there  is  a  simplicity  and  dignity  which, 


Guido  171 

united  with  her  exquisite  loveliness  and  deep 
sorrow,  are  inexpressibly  pathetic." 

There  are  two  forms  of  the  tradition  which 
relates  that  Guido  painted  the  portrait  of 
Beatrice  Cenci  just  before  her  execution. 
The  first  —  which  has  been  adopted  by  the 
artist  who  painted  our  picture  —  affirms  that 
Guido  drew  the  head  of  the  condemned  girl 
in  her  cell ;  the  second  has  it  that  he  made  a 
sketch  of  Beatrice  while  she  was  on  her  way 
to  the  scaffold. 

One  dislikes  to  aid  in  destroying  illusions 
so  long  and  so  widely  accepted,  but  regard 
for  truth  forces  us  to  point  out  that  Guido 
could  not  have  painted  the  portrait  of  Bea- 
trice Cenci,  as  she  was  put  to  death  on 
September  n,  1599,  and  the  painter  did  not 
go  to  Rome  until  several  years  after  that 
time.  Furthermore,  it  is  highly  improbable 
that  the  picture  represents  Beatrice  Cenci  at 
all,  one  weighty  reason  for  this  being  that,  as 
Sweetser  claims,  it  does  not  agree  in  various 


1 72       The  Great  Masters  of  Painting 

important  particulars  with  the  description 
given  of  her  in  a  contemporary  manuscript  in 
the  Cenci  archives.  No  reference  to  the 
portrait  has  been  found  in  any  book  or  docu- 
ment dated  previous  to  the  nineteenth  cen- 
tury. The  learned  Signor  Bertolotti,  director 
of  the  state  archives  in  Rome,  could  find  no 
mention  of  the  portrait  in  the  old  catalogue 
of  the  Barberini  collection  made  in  1604,  nor 
in  any  of  the  numerous  catalogues  of  other 
Roman  galleries,  which  he  examined  with  tire- 
less pertinacity.  No  one  knows  how  or  when 
it  was  first  reputed  to  be  the  portrait  of  the 
ill-fated  heroine  of  Shelley's  tragedy. 

Some  critics  go  farther  and  aver  that 
Guido  did  not  paint  the  picture,  pointing  out 
that  none  of  the  contemporary  biographers 
of  Guido  mention  it,  which  would  be  singular 
if  it  were  really  the  work  of  the  master. 
Malvasia,  the  painter's  intimate  friend,  gives  a 
long  list  of  his  pictures,  including  those  then 
in  the  Colonna  and  Barberini  Palaces,  but 


Paul  Potter  173 

makes  no  allusion  to  a  work  of  this  character. 
Thomas  Adolphus  Trollope,  a  brother  of  the 
famous  novelist  and  long  a  resident  of  Italy, 
believes  it,  however,  to  be  by  Guido,  and 
contends  that  it  is  the  head  of  a  favorite 
model  which  appears  in  others  of  the  mas- 
ter's works,  notably  in  his  celebrated  fresco 
of  "Aurora,"  in  the  Rospigliosi  Palace. 

These  vexed  questions  may  never  be  set- 
tled, but  the  century-old  popularity  of  this 
exquisite  face  will  probably  not  diminish,  and 
the  so-called  "Beatrice  Cenci"  still  be  the 
object  of  many  a  pilgrimage. 

PAUL  POTTER 

ONE  of  the  most  famous  pictures  in  the 
world  is  Paul  Potter's  "  Young  Bull,"  in  the 
Museum  at  The  Hague.  In  the  time  of 
the  Napoleonic  wars,  it  was  carried  off  to 
Paris  by  the  French,  and  according  to  one 
authority  was  considered  as  fourth  in  value 


174       The  Great  Masters  of  Painting 

among  all  the  pictures  in  the  Louvre,^ the 
three  which  ranked  before  it  being  Raphael's 
"  Transfiguration,"  Domenichino's  "  Com- 
munion of  St.  Jerome,"  and  Titian's  "  Martyr- 
dom of  St.  Peter."  Yet  it  is  not  to  be 
ranked  among  the  best  works  of  Potter, 
but  is  remarkable  rather  as  the  production  of 
a  young  man  of  but  twenty-two  years,  and  as 
one  of  the  few  large  pictures  which  he 
painted. 

Fromentin,  admirable  both  as  a  critic  and 
an  artist,  says  :  "  When  he  painted  the  '  Bull ' 
in  1647,  Paul  Potter  was  only  twenty-three 
years  old.  He  was  a  very  young  man,  and 
according  to  what  is  common  among  men  of 
twenty-three,  he  was  a  mere  child.  To  what 
school  did  he  belong?  To  none.  Had  he 
had  masters  ?  No  other  teachers  of  his  are 
known  but  his  father,  Pieter  Simonsz  Potter, 
an  obscure  painter,  and  Jacob  de  Weth,  of 
Haarlem,  who  also  had  not  knowledge  enough 
to  act  upon  a  pupil  for  good  or  evil.  Paul 


Paul  Potter  175 

Potter  found  then,  either  around  his  cradle  or 
in  the  studio  of  his  second  master,  nothing  but 
simple  advice  and  no  doctrine ;  but,  strange 
to  say,  the  pupil  asked  nothing  further.  Till 
1647  Paul  Potter  lived  between  Amsterdam 
and  Haarlem,  that  is,  between  Frans  Hals 
and  Rembrandt,  in  the  heart  of  the  most 
active,  the  most  stirring  art,  the  richest  in 
celebrated  masters  that  the  world  has  ever 
known,  except  in  Italy  in  the  preceding  cen- 
tury. Teachers  were  not  wanting ;  there 
was  only  the  embarrassment  of  choice. 
Wynants  was  forty-six  years  old ;  Cuyp, 
forty-two ;  Terburg,  thirty-nine ;  Ostade, 
thirty-seven ;  Metzu,  thirty-two ;  Wouver- 
mans,  twenty-seven ;  Berghem,  who  was 
about  his  own  age,  was  twenty-three.  Many 
of  them,  even  the  youngest,  were  members 
of  the  brotherhood  of  St.  Luke.  Finally, 
the  greatest  of  all,  and  the  most  illustrious, 
Rembrandt,  had  already  produced  the  '  Night 
Watch/  and  he  was  a  master  who  might  have 


176       The  Great  Masters  of  Painting 

been  a  temptation.  But  what  dicT^Paul 
Potter  do  ?  Had  he  co-disciples  ?  None  are 
seen.  His  friends  are  unknown.  He  was 
born,  but  we  hardly  know  the  year  with  ex- 
actitude. He  awoke  early  ;  at  fourteen  years 
signed  a  charming  etching;  at  twenty-two, 
though  ignorant  on  many  points,  he  was  of 
unexampled  maturity  in  others.  He  labored, 
and  produced  work  upon  work,  and  some  of 
them  were  admirable.  He  accumulated  them 
in  a  few  years  with  haste  and  abundance,  as 
if  death  was  at  his  heels,  and  yet  with  an 
application  and  a  patience  which  make  this 
prodigious  labor  seem  a  miracle.  He  was 
married  at  an  age  young  for  another,  very 
late  for  him,  for  it  was  on  July  3,  1650,  and 
on  August  4,  1654,  four  years  after,  death 
took  him,  possessing  all  his  glory,  but  before 
he  had  learned  his  trade.  What  could  be 
simpler,  briefer,  more  complete  ?  Take 
genius  and  no  lessons,  brave  study,  an  in- 
genuous and  learned  production  resulting 


Paul  Potter  177 

from  attentive  observation  and  reflection,  add 
to  this  a  great  natural  charm,  the  gentleness 
of  a  meditative  mind,  the  application  of  a  con- 
science burdened  with  scruples,  the  melan- 
choly inseparable  from  solitary  labor,  and 
possibly  the  sadness  of  a  man  out  of  health, 
and  you  have  nearly  imagined  Paul  Potter." 

It  may  be  doubted  if  any  artist  of  equal 
fame  died  as  young  as  Paul  Potter,  unless  we 
except  Masaccio,  whose  work  was  stopped 
at  an  even  earlier  age.  "  He  reposes  in  the 
very  reverse  of  the  quiet  scenes  he  loved  so 
well  to  depict.  All  around  is  the  bustle  of 
life,  the  throng  of  commerce,  the  din  of  busy 
feet.  The  quaint  and  characteristic  steeple 
peeps  over  tall  warehouses,  surrounding  busy 
docks  where  produce  is  unladen  from  all  quar- 
ters of  the  world.  You  cannot  rest  on  the 
bridges  which  span  the  canal  to  reflect  on 
the  mausoleum  of  the  painter,  for  the  heavily 
laden  cart  is  constantly  moving  with  mer- 
chandise, or  the  quaint  old  coach,  almost 


178       The  Great  Masters  of  Painting 

noiselessly  sliding  on  its  sledge  in  place  of 
wheels,  might  too  dangerously  disturb  your 
reverie.  There  is  something  incongruous  in 
seeking  the  grave  of  the  pastoral  painter 
in  such  uncongenial  scenes ;  and  in  the  very 
midst  of  '  life's  fitful  fever '  to  find  the  grave 
of  one  who  revelled  in  'fresh  fields  and  pas- 
tures new ; '  who  studied  them  with  a  poet's 
love,  and  delineated  them  with  a  love  of  na- 
ture, and  who  should  have  slept  where  trees 
shadow  and  flowers  garnish  the  sod. 

"An  artist  like  Potter  is  a  creator  of  a 
style ;  his  genius  enables  him  not  only  to  de- 
lineate what  he  sees,  but  to  express  the  hidden 
sentiment  which  gives  the  charm  to  nature 
itself.  He  has  gone  below  the  surface.  He 
has  been  thus  contrasted  with  painters  of  his 
school  by  a  modern  critic :  '  Others  have 
painted  cows,  oxen,  well-drawn  sheep,  all  well 
colored  and  painted.  He  alone  has  seized 
their  expression,  the  physiognomy  of  their 
inner  existence,  of  their  instinct.  We  admire 


Paul  Potter  179 

the  flocks  and  herds  of  Berghem,  of  Van  der 
Velde,  of  Karel  Dujardin  ;  we  are  touched  by 
those  of  Paul  Potter.' 

"  It  should  ever  be  remembered  that  it  is 
to  the  artists  of  Holland  we  owe  a  relief  from 
the  trammels  of  the  mere  <  academic '  school. 
It  is  to  their  love  of  nature,  and  persevering 
study  of  her  beauties  that  we  are  indebted 
for  a  purely  natural  series  of  pictures,  which 
rely  alone  for  immortality  on  their  true  re- 
flection of  her  varied  beauties.  The  world  as 
it  lay  around  us  was  long  a  book  unstudied  in 
the  flights  of  fancy  after  the  ideal.  To  them 
was  given  the  power  of  discovering  the  gold 
that  is  hidden  amid  the  dross ;  the  poetry 
that  is  in  humble  nature  ;  the  sentiment  that 
lurks  beneath  the  simplest  form.  They  cre- 
ated therefore  a  new  school  of  art,  and  a 
school  which  might  successfully  appeal  to  all, 
by  the  simplicity  of  its  sphere  of  action.  The 
minute  traits  of  nature  in  their  pictures  re- 
semble the  charming  traits  of  her  features 


180       The  Great  Masters  of  Painting 

<£X^>< 

which  delight  us  in  the  poetry  of  Shakespeare 
or  of  Burns.  As  the  '  lush  woodbine  '  or  the 
*  mountain  daisy '  could  gladden  the  hearts 
of  these  noble  poets  into  song,  so  the  chang- 
ing aspects  of  the  sky  could  elevate  into 
grandeur  the  simplest  elements  of  Rem- 
brandt's pictures,  and  the  level  meads  and 
happy  cattle  of  Paul  Potter  give  a  sentiment 
of  happiness  to  the  spectator,  like  that  felt 
by  Goethe's  '  Faust/  when,  tired  of  all  the 
artificial  glories  of  life,  he  feels  his  loftiest 
emotions  arise  from  the  contemplation  of  the 
fertile  fields  and  happy  peasantry  around  him. 
Truly  — 

"  *  One  touch  of  nature  makes  the  whole  world  kin,* 

and  while  this  cosmopolitan  relationship  exists, 
the  Dutch  painters  will  find  admirers." 

The  painter  of  "The  Studio  of  Paul 
Potter"  was  born  at  Paris  in  1806,  and 
died  at  Auteuil  in  1870.  Three  battle-pieces 
by  him  are  at  Versailles,  and  the  French  gov 


Velazquez  181 

ernment  bought  his  "View  near  Etretat  in 
the  Bathing-season."  He  painted  also  "The 
Studio  of  Van  der  Velde,"  "  Adriaan  Brauwer 
Painting  a  Tavern  Child,"  "The  Sinking 
of  the  Le  Vengeur"  "Winter  in  Holland," 
"Fishermen  Saving  a  Wreck,"  and  "Light- 
ing a  Beacon  in  Holland." 

VELAZQUEZ 

INSTANCES  of  the  condescension — as  it  was 
thought  —  of  monarchs  in  their  intercourse 
with  artists  are  common  enough.  Tradition 
affirms  that  Alexander  the  Great  relinquished 
Campaspe  to  Apelles,  who  had  fallen  in  love 
with  her  as  she  sat  to  him  for  the  figure  of  the 
goddess  in  his  picture  of  Venus  Anadyomene. 
The  same  more  or  less  trustworthy  authority 
asserts  that  Francis  I.  supported  the  head  of 
Leonardo  da  Vinci  during  the  painter's  last 
moments,  and  that  Charles  V.  did  not  dis- 
dain to  lift  the  brush  of  Titian  from  the 


1 82       The  Great  Masters  of  Painting 

floor  —  both  episodes,  by  the  way,  illustrated 
herein.  Art  received  another  tribute  from  roy- 
alty when  Philip  IV.  painted  the  Red  Cross  of 
Santiago  on  the  breast  of  Velazquez's  doublet 
in  his  picture  of  "  The  Maids  of  Honor." 

Stirling  says  :  "  This  pleasing  tradition  is 
not  altogether  overthrown  by  the  fact  that 
Velazquez  was  not  invested  with  the  order 
till  three  years  afterward  ;  for  the  production 
of  a  pedigree  and  other  formalities  were  nec- 
essary to  the  creation  of  a  knight,  obstacles 
which  might  be  overlooked  by  the  king, 
enraptured  with  his  new  picture,  and  yet 
stagger  a  college  of  arms  for  several  years." 
In  this  connection  Armstrong  remarks  that 
"Palomino  states  that  the  cross  in  the  pic- 
ture was  added  by  the  king's  order  after 
the  painter's  death.  In  spite  of  all  this  the 
tradition  may  be  true,  for  Spanish  proceed- 
ings were  never  prompt,  and  the  king  would 
certainly  not  have  troubled  to  do  more  than 
roughly  indicate  the  cross  with  his  brush ; 


Velazquez  i$3 

the-  present  well-painted  badge  being  added 
as  Palomino  says." 

However  this  may  be,  the  picture  painted 
in  1656  is,  by  the  consent  of  the  majority  of 
those  best  qualified  to  judge,  placed  second 
to  none  among  the  masterpieces  of  Velaz- 
quez. Luca  Giordano  pronounced  it  to  be 
"the  theology  of  painting."  John  Hay's 
comment  on  this  is :  "  If  our  theology  were 
what  it  should  be,  and  cannot  be,  absolute 
and  unquestionable  truth,  Luca  the  quick- 
worker  would  have  been  right."  Theophile 
Gautier  said :  "  So  complete  is  the  illusion 
that,  standing  in  front  of  '  Las  Meninas,' 
one  is  tempted  to  ask,  'Where,  then,  is  the 
picture  ? ' " 

Professor  Carl  Justi,  one  of  the  biogra- 
phers of  Velazquez,  gives  us  the  most  com- 
plete account  of  the  picture. 

He  says :  "  This  great  picture,  at  all  times 
regarded  as  the  master's  most  renowned 
work,  and  most  clearly  impressed  with  the 


1 84       The  Great  Masters  of  Painting 

stamp  of  his  genius,  is,  strictly  spealang,  a 
portrait  of  Princess  Margaret  as  the  central 
figure  in  one  of  the  daily  recurring  scenes  of 
her  palace  life.  The  figure  agrees  perfectly 
with  the  Vienna  work,  only  it  is  painted  with 
more  fiery  rapidity,  and  the  blonde  complex- 
ion looks  to  better  advantage  in  an  environ- 
ment treated  with  much  dark  blue. 

"  Her  stepbrother  Don  Balthasar  had  been 
dealt  with  in  a  somewhat  similar  way  in  the 
'Riding-school.'  But  the  daily  life  of  the 
young  princess  offered  no  such  favorable 
scenes  to  the  artist  as  those  suggested  by 
the  more  varied  occupations  of  a  prince  fond 
of  horsemanship  and  field  sports.  Her  ex- 
istence was  passed  in  the  secluded  apartments 
of  the  Cuarto  de  la  Reina,  surrounded  by  all 
the  restrictions  of  a  relentless  court  etiquette. 
Madame  de  Motteville's  '  Memoirs  '  give  us  an 
account  of  a  visit  at  the  threshold  of  the  In- 
fanta Maria  Theresa's  room :  '  She  is  waited 
on  with  great  respect,  few  have  access  to 


Velazquez  185 

her,  and  it  was  a  special  favor  thai  we  were 
allowed  to  linger  at  the  door  of  her  chamber. 
When  she  is  thirsty  a  menin  (maid)  brings  a 
glass  to  a  lady,  who  kneels,  as  does  also  the 
menin,  and  on  the  other  side  is  also  a  kneeling 
attendant,  who  hands  her  the  napkin ;  oppo- 
site stands  a  maid  of  honor.' 

"  The  passage  reads  almost  like  a  descrip- 
tion of  our  painting.  Here  the  central 
figure  is  the  little  idol,  at  that  time  in  her 
fifth  year,  constantly  surrounded  by  min- 
istering elfs,  by  trusty  Ariels  and  submissive 
sprites,  for  she  is  depicted  as  the  chief  orb 
of  a  sphere  where  light  and  shade,  beauty 
and  deformity,  harmoniously  combine  to  do 
her  service. 

"  In  Spain  the  picture  bears  the  name  of 
'Las  Meninas,'  not  without  reason.  The 
noble  damsels  were,  at  any  rate  for  the  Span- 
iards, the  most  attractive  of  all  the  figures, 
but  they  were  the  dark-eyed  daughters  of 
their  race,  lovely  young  blossoms  of  the 


1 86       The  Great  Masters  of  Painting 

^-^ 
old  Castilian  stock.     For  this  office  in  the 

royal  family  beauties  were  especially  selected, 
and  Madame  d'Aulnoy,  who  saw  them  in  the 
year  1680,  calls  them  *  fairer  than  Love  is 
painted.'  In  their  curtseying  and  bending 
of  the  knee  there  lurks  an  innate  grace  that 
triumphs  even  over  the  unsightly  costume  of 
that  period. 

"So  famous  was  the  painting  that  the 
names  of  all  the  figures  were  duly  recorded. 
The  lady  kneeling,  in  profile,  is  Dona  Maria 
Agostina,  daughter  of  Don  Diego  Sarmiento ; 
she  holds  a  gold  salver,  from  which  she  hands 
the  princess  the  water  in  a  red  cup  made  of 
bucaro,  a  fine  scented  clay  brought  from  the 
East  Indies.  The  other,  facing  her  and 
curtseying  slightly,  is  Dona  Isabel  de 
Velasco,  daughter  of  Don  Bernardino  Lopez 
de  Ayala  y  Velasco,  Count  of  Fuensalida. 
She  grew  up  to  a  womanhood  of  rare  beauty, 
but  died  three  years  later. 

"These  maids  of  honor  attended  on  the 


Velazquez  187 

queen  and  on  the  princesses  from  their  in- 
fancy to  the  time  when  they  assumed  the 
chapin,  or  slippers,  worn  by  the  young  ladies. 
The  meninas  themselves  wore  low  shoes  and 
a  kind  of  high-heeled  sandals,  which,  like 
galochesy  were  worn  over  the  others ;  both 
in  the  palace  and  outside  they  went  without 
hat  or  cloak. 

"On  the  right,  and  more  to  the  front  of 
Dona  Isabel,  are  two  figures  of  quite  a 
different  type,  who  form  in  the  foreground 
a  group  apart,  jointly  with  the  sculpturesque- 
looking  mastiff,  crouched  half  asleep  at  the 
edge  of  the  frame ;  for  these  playthings  are, 
after  all,  themselves  mere  domestic  animals 
in  human  form.  With  the  Cerberus  at  the 
threshold  are  naturally  associated  the  two 
grotesque  figures  of  Maria  Barbola  and  Nico- 
lasico  Pertusato,  who  served  to  complete  our 
master's  gallery  of  court  dwarfs,  and  who 
have  suggested  Wilkie's  description  of  the 
work  as  the  'Picture  of  the  Children  in 


1 88       The  Great  Masters  of  Painting 

Grotesque  Dresses.'  Pertusato  has  planted 
his  foot  on  the  dog,  as  if  to  remind  him  that 
it  is  unseemly  to  slumber  in  the  presence  of 
royalty,  while  the  other,  round  as  a  tub,  gives 
the  spectator  a  full  view  of  her  broad,  de- 
pressed, almost  brutal  countenance. 

"Farther  back,  in  the  gloom  produced  by 
the  closed  shutters,  two  court  officials  are 
conversing  with  bated  breath  —  the  senora 
de  honor,  Dona  Marcela  de  Ulloa,  in  the 
convent  habit,  and  a  guardadamas  (ladies' 
guard),  whose  duty  it  was  to  ride  with  the 
coaches  of  the  court  ladies,  and  conduct 
the  audiences.  Then,  quite  in  the  rear,  at 
the  open  door,  stands  Don  Joseph  Nieto,  the 
queen's  quartermaster,  drawing  the  curtain 
aside. 

"  Such  a  grouping  as  this  can  have  resulted 
only  by  chance.  Such  every-day  scenes,  even 
when  in  themselves  suited  for  pictorial  treat- 
ment, pass  unnoticed  because  of  their  con- 
stant  occurrence,  unless,  indeed,  the  artist 


Velazquez  1 89 

be  a  stranger.  Chance  alone,  which  Leo- 
nardo da  Vinci  tells  us  is  of  a  pictorial  com- 
position. It  happened  that  on  one  occasion, 
when  the  royal  couple  were  giving  a  sitting 
to  their  court  painter  in  his  studio,  Princess 
Margaret  was  sent  for  to  relieve  their  Maj- 
esties' weariness.  The  light  which,  after 
the  other  shutters  had  been  closed,  had  been 
let  in  from  the  window  on  the  right  for  the 
sitters,  now  also  streamed  in  upon  their  little 
visitor.  At  the  same  time  Velazquez  re- 
quested Nieto  to  open  the  door  in  the  rear, 
in  order  to  see  whether  a  front  light  also 
might  be  available. 

"Thus  the  king  sat  there,  relieved  from 
councils  and  affairs  of  state,  and  yielding 
to  his  paternal  feelings  in  the  midst  of  the 
family  circle.  Then  it  occurred  to  him, 
being  himself  half  an  artist,  that  something 
like  a  pictorial  scene  had  developed  before 
his  eyes.  He  muttered :  '  That  is  a  pic- 
ture ; '  the  next  moment  the  desire  arose 


1 90       The  Great  Masters  of  Painting 

<^-^ 
to  see  this   perpetuated,  and  without  more 

ado,  the  painter  was  at  work  on  the  sketch 
of  his  recuerdo  (memento).  In  the  case  of 
recuerdoSy  details  should  be  faithfully  re- 
corded, just  as  they  had  been  casually 
brought  together. 

"  Hence  the  peculiar  character  of  the  com- 
position, which  as  an  invention  would  be  in- 
explicable. It  is,  so  to  say,  a  tableau  vivant, 
and  the  figures  might  certainly  have  been 
more  naturally  and  effectively  grouped  in  a 
semicircle  about  the  canvas  on  the  easel. 
But  they  were  not  in  fact  at  the  moment 
mingled  in  a  single  group ;  the  royal  couple, 
although  invisible  to  the  observer,  were  in 
the  immediate  vicinity.  Thus  the  princess, 
while  taking  the  bucaro,  glances  toward  her 
mother ;  Dona  Isabel  looks  with  a  curtsey  in 
the  same  direction  ;  Maria  Barbola  hangs  with 
the  eyes  of  a  trusty  watch-dog  on  those  of  her 
mistress ;  the  guardadamas,  while  listening  to 
Dona  Marcela's  whisperings,  keeps  an  eye  on 


Velazquez  191 

the  king ;  lastly,  Nieto  turns  at  the  door  with 
an  inquiring  look. 

"  In  a  word,  we  see  the  company  as  one  sees 
the  audience  in  the  pit  from  the  stage,  and 
precisely  from  the  standpoint  of  the  king, 
who  is  reflected  in  the  mirror  on  the  wall  by 
the  side  of  the  queen.  He  had  seated  him- 
self opposite  this  mirror  in  order  to  be  able 
to  judge  of  his  posture.  It  may,  however,  be 
incidentally  remarked  that  nothing  is  known 
of  any  work  in  which  he  appears  actually  on 
the  same  canvas  with  Mariana. 

"In  this  instantaneous  picture  the  artist 
himself  had  also,  of  course,  to  be  taken.  He 
stands  at  his  easel,  but  slightly  concealed  by 
the  kneeling  figure  in  front,  his  head  domina- 
ting the  whole  group.  In  his  right  hand  he 
holds  the  long  brush,  in  his  left  the  palette 
and  painter's  stick.  The  hand,  like  those  of 
this  picture  generally,  is  exquisitely  painted, 
the  motion  of  the  fingers  being  distinctly 
indicated  by  four  strokes  of  the  brush. 


192       The  Great  Masters  of  Painting 

^^ 
"  On  his  breast  he  wears  the  Red  Cross  of 

Santiago.  According  to  the  legend,  Philip, 
on  the  completion  of  the  painting,  had  re- 
served a  royal  surprise  for  its  creator.  Re- 
marking that  it  still  lacked  something,  he 
seized  the  brush  and  added  this  red  cross. 
The  anecdote  has  been  questioned,  because 
the  preliminary  formalities  connected  with 
the  conferring  of  the  order  date  from  two 
years  later.  But  although,  according  to  Pa- 
lomino, the  cross  was  added  by  order  of  the 
king  after  Velazquez's  death,  it  may  still  have 
possibly  been  associated  with  the  work  at  the 
time.  Certainly  this  was  the  first  precedent 
for  the  figure  of  a  painter,  even  though  a 
palace  marshal,  to  be  introduced  in  a  canvas 
depicting  the  intimate  family  circle  of  royalty. 
Hence  it  may  have  seemed  proper  for  him 
also  to  be  promoted  to  a  higher  degree  of 
nobility  for  the  occasion." 

It  is  of  interest  to  learn,  on  the  weighty 
authority   of    Curtis,   that    the    "  Maids   of 


Poussin  193 

Honor  "  contains  the  best  and  most  authentic 
portrait  of  its  painter,  the  only  one  whose 
history  can  be  traced  back  to  the  time  of  the 
artist. 

POUSSIN 
"  Oh  Rome !  my  country !  city  of  the  soul !  " 

THE  sentiment  of  Byron's  striking  line 
reechoes  the  master  passion  of  Poussin,  to 
whom  Rome  became  as  his  life.  His  first 
sojourn  in  the  Eternal  City  reached  to  sixteen 
years ;  then  the  generous  offers  of  Richelieu 
and  the  express  wish  of  Louis  XIII.  brought 
Poussin  to  Paris.  But  only  for  a  short  space 
could  the  artist  contentedly  breathe  the  air 
of  France  —  though  it  was  that  of  his  native 
land.  The  opposition  of  envious  rivals  still 
firmer  fixed  his  intention  to  return  to  his 
beloved  Italy,  and  the  next  year  after  the 
one  which  saw  him  in  Paris  beheld  him  again 
at  Rome  —  never  to  return. 


194       The  Great  Masters  of  Painting 

"At  Monte  Pincio  he  continued  lor  the 
next  three  and  twenty  years  to  live  a  tran- 
quil, laborious,  uneventful  life.  His  days 
were  regular  and  well  ordered.  After  break- 
fast he  generally  walked  to  the  top  of  the 

hill,  by  an   ascent  delightfully   shaded   and 

• 

ornamented  with  fountains.  Here  he  had  a 
fine  view  over  Rome,  and  often  met  and 
conversed  with  friends.  Returned  to  his 
house,  he  worked  until  the  evening,  when  he 
again  went  out  walking  in  the  square  at  the 
base  of  the  hill.  Here  he  became  the  centre 
of  a  group  in  which  strangers  freely  joined, 
and  where  the  conversation  embraced  all 
kinds  of  subjects,  but  chiefly  ran  upon  art. 
He  had  read  and  thought  so  much,  and  had 
so  orderly  a  mind,  that  what  he  said  seemed 
carefully  prepared  beforehand.  He  inclined 
to  the  tone  of  the  ancient  philosopher,  and 
loved  to  express  himself  sententiously.  To 
a  young  artist  who  showed  him  his  work, 
'You  want  nothing/  he  said,  'to  become  a 


Poussin  195 

great  painter,  except  a  little  poverty.'  Walk- 
ing one  day  among  the  ruins  with  a  foreigner 
desirous  of  taking  home  with  him  some 
precious  fragment,  'I  wish/  said  Poussin, 
'to  give  you  the  finest  antiquity  you  could 
desire/  Then  collecting  from  among  the 
grass  a  little  sand  and  some  broken  cement, 
mingled  with  morsels  of  porphyry,  he  gave  it 
to  his  companion,  saying,  '  Signor,  take  this 
back  with  you  and  say,  "  This  dust  is  ancient 
Rome." ' 

"He  thought  so  little  of  making  money 
that  he  generally  worked  for  the  same  per- 
sons, refusing  to  take  more  than  he  con- 
ceived his  pictures  were  worth,  or  than  his 
employer  could  afford  to  pay.  On  one  occa- 
sion, when  there  was  a  considerable  rise  in 
the  value  of  money,  he  of  his  own  accord 
made  a  great  reduction  in  his  price.  His 
acquisitiveness  found  its  satisfaction  in  the 
pursuit  of  every  kind  of  knowledge  that 
would  advance  his  art.  Asked  one  day  how 


1 96       The  Great  Masters  of  Painting 

he  had  arrived  at  such  perfection,  her  ingen- 
iously replied,  '  Because  I  have  neglected 
nothing ; '  in  proof  of  which  he  gave  ocular 
demonstration,  for  he  was  carrying  in  his 
hand  a  pocket-handkerchief  full  of  stones, 
mosses,  and  flowers,  which  he  had  been  col- 
lecting on  the  banks  of  the  Tiber.  In  this 
progress  toward  perfection  he  persevered  to 
the  last.  'A  swan's  dying  note/  he  said, 
'should  be  her  sweetest.'  And  even  when 
his  hand  began  to  grow  feeble  he  wrote :  '  I 
could,  I  believe,  guide  it  better  than  ever,  but 
I  have  too  much  reason  to  say  with  Themis- 
tocles,  sighing  over  the  end  of  his  life,  "  Man 
declines  and  departs  when  he  is  ready  to  do 
well."  I  do  not,  therefore,  lose  courage,  for 
as  long  as  the  head  remains  in  health,  the  ser- 
vant, though  weak,  will  observe  the  better 
and  more  excellent  parts  of  art  which  belong 
to  the  domain  of  the  master.' ' 

Miss  Denio,  to  whom  we  owe  a  valuable 
work  on  Poussin,  says  :  "  Long  stay  in  Italy 


Poussin  197 

did  not  denationalize  him ;  to  the  end  he  re- 
mained a  good  Frenchman.  Italians,  as  well 
as  Frenchmen,  honored  the  man  and  artist ; 
perhaps  the  former  esteemed  him  more 
justly.  About  the  time  of  Nicolas  Poussin's 
death,  a  cult  began  of  this  artist,  so  extrava- 
gant in  its  nature,  that  the  jarring  voice  of 
censure  could  not  be  heard  amid  the  exces- 
sive praises  at  his  shrine.  Nowadays  it 
seems  easier  to  find  flaws  in  the  art-works 
of  this  great  master  than  in  his  character. 
As  a  human  being  he  must  have  had  faults. 
He  loved  deeply  and  kept  his  friends.  These 
attachments  to  patrons  who  were  also  his 
cherished  friends  and  sincere  admirers,  form 
a  most  interesting  part  of  the  story.  But 
Nicolas  Poussin  was  not  a  meek  man.  He 
had  no  patience  with  incompetent  or  lazy 
people.  He  saw  through  shams,  and  used 
very  apt  words  to  characterize  them.  He 
could,  perhaps,  forgive,  but  not  forget  an 
injury.  This  was  noticed  in  the  account  of 


198      The  Great  Masters  of  Painting 

the  scourging  picture,  'Hercules  Striking 
down  Folly,  Ignorance,  and  Envy/  Two  of 
the  three  brothers-in-law,  and  their  sister 
with  her  four  children,  received  bequests  from 
the  painter,  but  Gaspard  Dughet,  who  had 
offended  him,  was  cut  off  without  a  penny. 
Matthias  Letellier,  the  elder  of  the  two  grand- 
nephews  in  Les  Andelys, .lost  everything, 
owing  to  his  want  of  tact  while  visiting  his 
uncle.  His  brother  Jean  was  made  heir, 
and  a  cousin,  Franchise  Letellier,  and  her 
children  were  also  remembered.  Nicolas 
Poussin  held  tenaciously  to  what  he  consid- 
ered his  rights.  This  appears  in  the  corre- 
spondence between  the  painter  and  M.  de 
Chantelou  about  the  disposal  of  the  house  in 
the  Tuileries  gardens,  when  Poussin  exhibited 
something  of  the  dog-in-a-manger  spirit.  He 
liked  solitude,  yet  was  accessible  to  others, 
and  gladly  helped  younger  men  if  they 
showed  themselves  in  earnest.  His  letters 
contain  many  petitions  to  friends  and  patrons, 


Poussin  199 

asking  help  for  other  artists  less  well  known 
and  less  fortunate  than  himself.  A  good 
anecdote  is  told  by  Felibien,  illustrating  the 
artist's  contentment  with  his  simple  manner 
of  living.  One  evening  Cardinal  Massimi 
came  to  see  Poussin,  and  remained  until  late 
into  the  night,  forgetful  of  time  in  the  pleas- 
ure of  conversation.  At  last  he  was  com- 
pelled to  leave,  and  his  host  lighted  the  way 
to  the  door,  when  the  great  man  said :  '  I 
am  sorry  for  you  that  you  have  no  valet  to 
render  such  a  service.'  To  which  Poussin 
quickly  answered  :  '  I  am  more  sorry  for 
you  who  have  so  many/  In  his  last  years, 
when  ill  and  weak,  the  painter  grew  very 
melancholy.  After  his  wife's  death  he  writes 
like  one  forsaken,  as  a  stranger  in  a  strange 
land.  Perchance,  as  years  increased,  he  may 
have  become  more  dogmatic  and  dictatorial 
in  the  expression  of  his  opinions.  After  the 
death  of  a  dear  friend,  his  virtues  shine  forth, 
petty  features  of  character  retire  far  into  the 


2OO       The  Great  Masters  of  Painting 

<^-' 

shade,  and,  as  time  goes  on,  become  obliter- 
ated. Thus,  in  the  history  of  Nicolas  Pous- 
sin,  we  would  emphasize  his  industrious, 
simple,  and  contented  manner  of  life,  as  well 
as  his  pure,  loving,  and  upright  relations  as 
husband  and  friend.  The  man  is  greater 
than  the  artist ;  he  commands  our  respect 
and  admiration." 

The  Scripture  story  of  the  infancy  of  the 
great  Hebrew  leader  was  treated  several 
times  by  Poussin,  two  variants  of  the  "  Find- 
ing of  Moses  "  by  him  being  in  the  Louvre. 

Benouville  has  imagined  the  artist  as  re- 
ceiving the  first  suggestion  for  these  works 
while  sketching  on  the  banks  of  the  Tiber, 
near  Rome,  and  observing  a  peasant  woman 
bathing  her  unwilling  infant  in  the  historic 
stream. 

The  painter  of  this  composition  died  at  an 
early  age,  in  his  native  city  of  Paris,  in  1859, 
having  been  born  there  in  1821,  and  left 
behind  him  as  his  most  important  work  a 


Cano  20 i 

picture  of  "  St.  Francis  of  Assisi  Dying, 
Blessing  his  Native  City,"  which  is  now  in  the 
Louvre.  He  also  painted  "  Christian  Martyrs 
Entering  the  Amphitheatre,"  "  Raphael  See- 
ing the  Fornarina  for  the  First  Time,"  and 
"Joan  of  Arc."  Benouville,  who  was  a  pupil 
of  Picot,  won  the  Grand  Prize  of  Rome  in 
1845,  and  afterward  received  several  medals 
in  recognition  of  his  merits. 


CANO 

THE  life  of  the  "Michael  Angelo  of 
Spain,"  as  Cano  has  been  called  because  of 
his  ability  to  practise  the  sister  arts  of  paint- 
ing, sculpture,  and  architecture,  presents 
many  points  of  interest. 

When  about  fifty  years  old,  he  determined 
to  become  a  priest,  and  leaving  Madrid,  took 
up  his  abode  in  his  native  city  of  Granada. 
"  The  stall  of  a  minor  canon  in  the  cathedral 
falling  vacant,  he  suggested  to  his  friends  in 


2O2       The  Great  Masters  of  Painting 

^^ 

the  chapter,  that  it  would  be  for  the  advan- 
tage of  that  body  were  an  artist  appointed, 
and  permitted  to  exchange  the  choral  duties 
of  the  preferment  for  the  superintendence  of 
the  architecture  and  decorations  of  the  church ; 
and,  on  these  terms,  obtained  a  recommen- 
dation in  his  own  behalf  to  the  Crown. 
Philip  IV.,  always  ready  to  befriend  a  good 
artist,  at  once  conferred  the  benefice  upon 
Cano."  "The  remonstrances  of  the  chapter 
of  Granada  against  Cano's  appointment  as  a 
minor  canon,  on  the  ground  that  his  learn- 
ing was  insufficient,  afforded  Philip  an  occa- 
sion, which  he  did  not  let  slip,  of  vindicating 
the  dignity  of  art  against  the  arrogance  of 
the  cloth.  'Were  this  painter,'  he  said,  'a 
learned  man,  who  knows  but  that  he  might 
be  Archbishop  of  Toledo  ?  I  can  make 
canons  like  you  at  my  pleasure,  but  God 
alone  can  make  an  Alonso  Cano.'  Thus, 
backed  by  royal  favor,  he  took  peaceable 
possession  of  his  stall  on  the  2Oth  of  Feb- 


Cano  203 

ruary,  1652,  and  soon  justified  his  election, 
and  conciliated  the  canons  by  the  diligent 
exercise  of  his  pencil  and  his  chisel  for  the 
embellishment  of  the  stately  cathedral." 

Cano  also  worked  for  other  churches  and 
convents.  At  one  time  "the  bishop  of 
Malaga,  being  engaged  in  improving  his 
cathedral-church,  invited  Cano  to  that  city, 
for  the  purpose  of  designing  a  new  taber- 
nacle for  the  high  altar,  and  new  stalls  for 
the  choir.  He  had  finished  his  plans  very 
much  to  the  prelate's  satisfaction,  when  he 
was  privately  informed  that  the  intendant  of 
the  works  proposed  to  allow  him  a  very 
trifling  remuneration.  'These  drawings,' 
said  he,  'are  either  to  be  given  away  for 
nothing,  or  to  fetch  two  thousand  ducats/ 
and  packing  them  up,  he  mounted  his  mule, 
and  took  the  road  to  Granada.  The  niggardly 
intendant,  learning  the  cause  of  his  departure, 
became  alarmed,  and  sending  after  him,  agreed 
to  pay  him.  his  own  price  for  the  plans.'* 


2O4      The  Great  Masters  of  Painting 

(a^ 
Cano   was    wont    to   accept   commissions 

from  private  individuals  as  well  as  from  re- 
ligious bodies,  and  was  once  employed  by  an 
auditor  of  the  Royal  Chancery,  "  who  ordered 
the  canon  to  model  for  him  a  statue,  about  a 
yard  in  height,  of  St.  Anthony  of  Padua, 
desiring  him  to  put  forth  all  his  skill.  The 
work  being  finished,  he  went  to  see  it,  and 
after  expressing  his  satisfaction,  he  carelessly 
asked  the  price.  Cano  demanded  one  hun- 
dred doubloons.  Greatly  astonished,  and 
after  a  long  pause,  the  auditor  next  inquired 
how  many  days'  labor  it  had  cost.  '  Twenty- 
five/  replied  Cano.  'Then  it  appears,'  said 
the  patron,  'that  you  esteem  your  labor  at 
four  doubloons  a  day  ? '  '  You  are  but  a  bad 
accountant/  retorted  the  artist,  'for  I  have 
been  fifty  years  learning  to  make  such  a 
statue  as  this  in  twenty-five  days/  '  And  I/ 
rejoined  the  auditor,  'have  spent  my  youth 
and  my  patrimony  on  my  university  studies, 
and  now,  being  auditor  of  Granada,  a  far 


Cano  205 

nobler  profession  than  yours,  I  earn  each  day 
a  bare  doubloon/  The  old  lay  leaven  began 
to  work  in  the  canon,  and  he  remembered 
the  words  of  Philip  IV.  *  Yours  a  nobler 
profession  than  mine  ! '  cried  he ;  '  know  that 
the  king  can  make  auditors  of  the  dust  of 
the  earth,  but  that  God  reserves  to  himself 
the  creation  of  such  as  Alonso  Cano ! '  and 
without  waiting  for  further  argument,  he  laicj 
hold  on  St.  Anthony,  and  dashed  him  to 
pieces  on  the  floor,  to  the  dismay  of  his 
devotee,  who  immediately  fled,  boiling  with 
rage.  To  put  such  an  affront  upon  a  man 
in  authority,  says  sagacious  Palomino,  was 
highly  imprudent,  especially  upon  an  auditor 
of  Granada,  who  is  a  little  god  upon  earth ; 
and  still  more  when  the  matter  might  have 
been  brought  before  the  Holy  Office,  where 
small  allowance  would  be  made  for  the 
natural  irritability  of  an  artist,  and  for  his 
sacristan-like  irreverence,  engendered  by 
daily  familiarity  with  saintly  effigies.  The 


206       The  Great  Masters  of  Painting 

ci-^ 
outraged  functionary,  however,  took  another 

sort  of  revenge.  By  his  influence  in  the 
chapter,  Cano's  stall  was  declared  vacant, 
because  he  had  not  qualified  himself  to  hold 
it  by  taking  orders  within  the  given  time." 

The  artist-canon  was  now  obliged  to  ap- 
peal to  the  king,  who,  with  his  usual  kind- 
ness toward  men  of  talent,  reinstated  Cano 
in  his  benefice. 

It  is  told  of  Cano  that,  when  he  lay  on  his 
death-bed,  he  put  aside  with  disapprobation 
the  rudely  sculptured  crucifix  which  was 
placed  in  his  hand  by  the  attending  priest. 
" '  My  son/  said  the  good  man,  somewhat 
shocked  by  the  action,  '  what  are  you  doing  ? 
This  is  the  image  of  our  Lord  the  Redeemer, 
by  whom  alone  you  can  be  saved.'  'So  do 
I  believe,  father,'  replied  the  dying  man, 
'yet  vex  me  not  with  this  thing,  but  give 
me  a  simple  cross,  that  I  may  adore  it  both 
as  it  is  in  itself  and  as  I  can  figure  it  in  my 
mind.'  His  request  being  granted,  'he 


Cano  207 

died/  says  Palomino,  'in  a  manner  highly 
exemplary  and  edifying  to  those  about  him.'  " 
Cano  died  in  comparative  poverty,  his  last 
years  having  been  spent  in  religious  exer- 
cises and  in  giving  aid  to  the  poor.  If,  as 
was  often  the  case,  he  found  his  purse  un- 
able to  meet  the  demands  made  upon  it  in 
charity's  name,  he  would  present  the  needy 
applicant  with  a  sketch  which  could  readily 
be  sold  for  a  fair  price. 

The  brush  of  the  late  Mr.  Burgess,  an 
English  painter  who  depicted  many  scenes 
from  Spanish  life,  has  admirably  realized  for 
us  an  episode  of  this  kind  in  Cano's  career. 
The  picture  was  exhibited  at  the  Royal 
Academy  in  1886,  and  is  now  the  property 
of  the  Reading  Art  Gallery.  Its  painter, 
John  Bagnold  Burgess,  R.  A.,  who  came  of 
a  family  of  artists,  was  born  in  London  in 
1830,  and  died  in  1897,  leaving  behind  him 
many  meritorious  works.  Among  them  are 
"  Bravo,  Toro !  "  "  The  Spanish  Letter- 


208       The  Great  Masters  of  Painting 

writer,"  "Pensioned  Off,"  "The  Student 
in  Disgrace,"  "  The  Barber's  Prodigy,"  and 
"The  Meal  at  the  Fountain."  "Licensing 
the  Beggars,  Spain,"  is  in  the  Royal  Hollo- 
way  College. 


REMBRANDT 

"  The  etcher's  needle  on  its  point 
Doth  catch  what  in  the  artist-poet's  mind 
Reality  and  fancy  did  create." 

THUS  wrote  Vosmaer  (Rembrandt's  best 
biographer)  of  the  art  of  which  the  great 
Dutchman  is  the  chief  glory.  Hamerton,  an 
accomplished  etcher  and  an  admirable  writer 
on  art,  says,  "Every  art  has  its  great  rep- 
resentative master,  and  the  representative 
etcher  is  Rembrandt.  He  was  so  constituted, 
and  he  so  trained  himself,  as  to  become,  in 
his  maturity,  the  most  consummate  aquafor- 
tist who  has  hitherto  appeared."  A  far 
greater  etcher  but  less  trustworthy  authority 


Rembrandt  209 

than  Hamerton,  Seymour  Haden,  asserts  that 
"  the  history  of  Rembrandt  is  the  history  of 
the  whole  art  of  etching." 

Koehler  remarks  that  "  Rembrandt  was 
indeed  the  first  artist  who  may  truly  be 
called  modern.  For  not  only  is  he  a  realist 
of  the  realists,  but  what  makes  him  still 
more  modern  is  his  intense  subjectivity. 
.  .  .  What  attracts  us  in  Rembrandt  is  his 
intense  humanity  and  the  power  he  has  of 
expressing  it."  Charles  Blanc  asserts  that 
etching  "attained  its  full  expression,  its 
value,  its  color,  in  the  seventeenth  century. 
Rembrandt  was  its  inventor,  its  poet,  its 
Shakespeare.  It  was  he  who  made  of  a 
simple  method  an  art."  And  Henri  Bela- 
bor de  says  of  Rembrandt,  "he  composes  an 
eloquent  and  magical  style  with  the  most 
diverse  elements,  the  familiar  and  the  pom- 
pous, the  vulgar  and  the  heroic,  and  from 
this  mixture  results  the  admirable  harmony 
of  the  whole." 


2IO       The  Great  Masters  of  Painting 

It  was  to  the  Salon  of  1861  that  Ger6me 
contributed  his  picture  of  "Rembrandt," 
which  Theophile  Gautier  has  thus  described : 

"The  light,  falling  from  a  high  window 
and  filtering  through  one  of  those  frames 
covered  with  white  paper,  which  engravers 
use  to  soften  the  glare  of  the  copper,  creeps 
over  the  table,  touches  the  bottles  filled  with 
water  or  acid,  diffuses  itself  through  the 
chamber,  and  dies  away  in  obscure  corners 
in  warm,  mysterious  half  shadows.  Rem- 
brandt, clad  in  black  and  bending  over  the 
table,  reflects  the  light  on  a  plate  in  order  to 
ascertain  the  depth  of  the  incision.  Nothing 
more.  But  here  is  genuine  matter  for  a  paint- 
er's brush :  light  concentrated  on  one  point 
and  diminishing  by  imperceptible  degrees, 
starting  with  white  and  ending  with  bitumen. 
This  is  equal  in  value  to  any  literary  or  spir- 
ituelle  fancy,  and  Rembrandt  himself  has 
scarcely  portrayed  any  other,  in  his  pictures 
or  his  etchings.  The  plate  which  he  is  in 


Rembrandt  2 1 1 

process  of  biting  probably  depicts  a  scene  of 
\h\sgenre.  The  Rembrandt  is  a  marvel  of 
delicacy,  transparency,  and  effect.  Never 
has  M.  Ge"rome  shown  himself  more  of  a 
colorist.  This  Pompeian,  this  painter  a  V 
encaustique,  this  illuminator  of  Greek  vases, 
has  achieved  at  the  first  essay  the  absolute 
perfection  of  the  Dutch  masters." 

Gdrdme  (born  in  1824,  and  the  best  pupil 
of  Paul  Delaroche)  is  widely  known  in  Amer- 
ica, both  because  of  the  number  of  his  pic- 
tures owned  in  the  United  States  and  from 
the  fact  that  he  has  been  the  honored  teacher 
of  so  many  of  our  best  painters  —  such  as 
George  de  Forest  Brush,  Kenyon  Cox.  Edwin 
H.  Blashfield,  Frederick  A.  Bridgman,  Wyatt 
Eaton,  Abbott  Thayer,  and  ]<  Alden  Weir. 

Few  of  our  art-collectors  lacked  a  Ger6me 
among  their  treasures.  The  late  A.  T.  Stewart 
had  three,  "The  Chariot  Race,"  the  "Gladi- 
ators," and  "A  Collaboration;"  W.  T.  Wal- 
ters owned  another  trio,  "  Diogenes,"  "  Chris- 


212       The  Great  Masters  of  Painting 

c^' 

tian  Martyrs,"  and  that  little  tragedy  called 
"The  Duel  after  the  Masked  Ball;"  Mrs. 
Morgan  possessed  the  "  Tulip  Folly ;  "  Miss 
Catharine  Wolfe,  the  "  Prayer  in  a  Mosque 
—  Old  Cairo;"  John  Taylor  Johnston,  the 
"Death  of  Caesar;"  William  H.  Vanderbilt, 
the  "  Sword  Dance  "  and  the  "  Reception  of 
the  Great  Conde  by  Louis  XIV.;"  J.  H. 
Stebbins,  "  Louis  XIV.  and  Moliere ;  "  John 
Hoey,  «  The  Dance  of  the  Almeh ; "  D.  O. 
Mills,  "  Cleopatra  before  Caesar ; "  Morris 
K.  Jesup,  "  Dante ; "  and  R.  L.  Kennedy, 
"  Bonaparte  in  Egypt." 

The  other  important  works  of  Ger6me 
may  be  —  in  part  —  enumerated  thus  :  "  The 
Age  of  Augustus,"  "King  Candaules," 
"  Gladiators  Saluting  Caesar,"  "  Napoleon 
before  the  Sphinx,"  "The  Prisoner,"  "Death 
of  Marshal  Ney,"  and  "  Golgotha." 

Many  well  deserved  honors  have  been 
bestowed  on  this  distinguished  artist,  who 
has  also  gained  high  renown  as  a  sculptor. 


Salvator  Rosa  213 

He  has  lately  modelled  a  series  of  eques- 
trian figures  of  singular  merit  —  among  them 
Julius  Caesar,  Frederick  the  Great,  Washing- 
ton, and  Bonaparte. 


SALVATOR  ROSA 

AMONG  those  painters  who  were  also  poets 
is  found  Salvator  Rosa. 

In  one  spirited  effusion  he  complains  of 
the  ill-fortune  which  pursued  him  during  the 
early  part  of  his  career,  in  the  following 
manner : 

"  No  truce  from  care,  no  pause  from  woe, 
Fortune  —  for  ever  still  my  foe  — 
Seems  not  to  know  or  to  remember 
I  live  and  feel  in  every  member ;  — 
Am  nerve,  flesh,  spirit,  pulse,  and  core, 
And  throb  and  ache  at  every  pore. 
Yet  from  my  first-drawn  sigh,  through  life, 
I've  waged  with  fate  eternal  strife; 
Have  toil'd  without  reward  or  gain, 
And  woo'd  the  arts  —  but  woo'd  in  vain. 


214       The  Great  Masters  of  Painting 

>^^ 

For,  while  to  Hope  I  fondly  trust, 

I  scarce  can  earn  my  daily  crust. 

For  me  bright  suns  but  vainly  shine, 

In  vain  the  earth  yields  corn  and  wine. 

Whene'er  of  peace  I  idly  dream, 

Discord  is  sure  to  rule  supreme ; 

Ventures  my  little  bark  to  sea  ? 

Up  springs  a  storm  express  for  me : 

My  drench 'd  sails  should  I  spread  to  dry, 

Down  pours  a  deluge  from  the  sky : 

Nay,  should  I  seek  those  Indian  plains 

Whose  sands  are  gold,  —  for  all  my  pains, 

I'd  find  transmuted  into  lead 

The  ore  of  the  rich  river's  bed ! 

When,  driv'n  by  Nature's  pinching  wants, 

In  the  M creators  coarse  throng'd  haunts 

I  higgling  stand,  spite  of  all  care 

I'm  juggled  of  my  frugal  fare, 

And  find  (my  hard-made  bargain  done) 

My  pound  of  flesh,  a  pound  of  bone. 

If  forced  I  seek  the  princely  state, 

The  domes  of  those  we  call  the  great, 

Corruption's  self  my  bribes  will  slight, 

And  find  my  buona  mano  light. 

While,  as  I  saunter  through  the  court, 

I  grow  the  jesting  page's  sport ; 

For  threadbare  cloaks  meet  no  respect, 

And  challenge  only  cold  neglect. 


Salvator  Rosa  215 

Out  on  my  cloak !     The  very  Jews 
To  take  the  paltry  pledge  refuse ; 
In  every  stall  its  credit's  blown, 
To  the  whole  Ghetto  too  well  known ; 
And  they  who  buy  all  ends  and  fags 
Will  not  accept  my  well-worn  rags ! 
By  night,  by  day,  my  harass'd  mind 
No  rest,  no  peace,  no  balm  can  find. 
My  waking  thoughts  are  thoughts  of  care ; 
My  night-dreams  —  castles  in  the  air ! 
While  all  around  in  pomp  and  state, 
The  meanest  vessel  gold,  or  plate, 
No  roof  in  country,  shed  in  town, 
Could  I ,  alas  !  e'er  call  my  own : 
Rich  but  in  hope,  and  when  that's  fled, 
An  hospital  reserves  its  bed. 
In  summer,  when  the  dog-star  glows, 
I'm  dress'd  as  though  the  Tiber  froze. 
For  this  you'll  guess  the  ready  reason  — 
I've  but  one  suit  for  every  season. 
Yet,  could  I  earn  my  daily  pittance, 
Fortune,  Pd  make  thee  an  acquittance; 
I  prize  not  toys,  which  ne'er  should  find 
A  place  within  the  noble  mind. 
But  my  most  ample  means  are  scant 
To  meet  life's  simplest,  humblest  want 
Great  God!  yet « I'm  a  painter  too,' 
And  can  I  find  no  cheering  hue 


216      The  Great  Masters  of  Painting 

•^ 

To  tinge  this  darksome  sketch  of  life, 
Where  all  is  effort,  evil,  strife  ? 
Oh,  no  !  one  sombre  tint  pervades, 
My  verdure  browns,  my  sunbeams  shades, 
Sheds  o'er  the  scenes  eternal  gloom, 
And  dims  their  lights  and  chills  their  bloom. 
Yet  when  my  frozen  spirits  play, 
And  fancy  lends  a  genial  ray, 
My  pencil  in  its  wanton  sport 
Brings  the  well-freighted  bark  to  port ; 
Bestows  fair  sites  on  whom  I  please, 
Raises  rich,  leafy  woods  with  ease ; 
But,  of  such  varied  wealth  the  maker, 
I  work  and  starve,  without  an  acre. 
Success,  pursued,  still  seems  to  fly, 
Hope's  smile  has  still  its  kindred  sigh ; 
Youth's  joys  are  dull'd,  its  visions  flown, 
Yet  friends  still  cry,  '  Hope  and  work  on ; ' 
«  Hope  still,  starve  still ; '  —  to  say  the  best, 
This  counsel's  but  a  sorry  jest ; 
For,  take  it  on  Salvator's  word, 
Of  the  rich,  noble,  vulgar  herd, 
Few  estimate,  and  few  require, 
The  painter's  zeal,  the  poet's  fire. 
The  surest  road  to  recompense 
Is  to  conceal  superior  sense. 
Better,  far  better  meet  our  doom, 
And  sleep  within  the  peaceful  tomb, 


Salvator  Rosa  217 

Than  cursed  with  wit,  sense,  worth,  and  spirit, 
To  trust  to  industry  and  merit  — 
Than  live  a  beggar  and  a  slave, 
The  scorn  of  every  fool  and  knave.'* 

The  allusion  in  this  poem  to  the  artist's 
visits  to  the  mercato  in  order  to  procure 
money  for  pressing  needs  by  the  sale  of 
some  of  his  sketches,  suggested  to  Maclise 
the  subject  of  the  picture  which  is  here 
reproduced.  Maclise' s  biographer  says  that 
the  suggestion  was  conveyed  to  him  by  a 
passage  in  the  "  Life  of  Salvator  Rosa," 
written  by  the  artist's  clever  countrywoman, 
Lady  Morgan.  The  romantic  and  pictur- 
esque existence  of  Salvator  had  evidently 
a  strong  attraction  for  Maclise,  who  painted 
at  least  two  other  scenes  from  the  life  of  the 
renowned  Neapolitan.  One  of  these  was 
"  Salvator  Rosa  and  the  Cognoscenti,"  and 
another  depicted  "  Salvator  Rosa  Painting 
his  Friend  Masaniello."  The  last-named  pic- 
ture is  now  in  the  Carey  collection  at  the 


218       The  Great  Masters  of  Painting 

^^ 

Pennsylvania  Academy  of  Fine  Arts  in  Phila- 
delphia. 

Daniel  Maclise  was  born  in  Cork  in  1811. 
He  found  his  way  to  London  in  1827,  and 
became  a  student  at  the  Royal  Academy,  on 
whose  walls  a  picture  from  his  hand  first 
appeared  in  1829.  This  was  "Malvolio 
Affecting  the  Count,"  which  was  succeeded 
in  after  years  by  many  fine  works.  His 
best-known  pictures  are,  perhaps,  "  The  Ban- 
quet Scene  in  « Macbeth/  "  "  The  Play  Scene 
in  'Hamlet,'"  "  Caxton's  Printing-office  at 
Westminster,"  "The  Origin  of  the  Harp," 
and  "  Madeline  after  Prayer,"  the  last  being 
taken  from  Keats's  "Eve  of  St.  Agnes." 
Maclise's  great  frescoes  of  "  The  Death  of 
Nelson,"  and  "The  Meeting  of  Wellington 
and  Blucher  after  Waterloo,"  are  in  the 
Houses  of  Parliament.  Elected  an  acade- 
mician in  1840,  he  declined  the  presidency 
of  the  Royal  Academy  in  1866,  and  died  in 
1870.  Even  so  brief  an  account  of  him  as 


Tenters  219 

this  must  mention  his  close  friendship  with 
Charles  Dickens,  of  whom  he  painted  an  ad- 
mirable portrait,  and  whose  touching  tribute 
to  Maclise  was  delivered  at  the  annual  dinner 
of  the  Royal  Academy  only  a  few  weeks 
before  the  death  of  the  great  novelist. 
These  words  were  the  last  spoken  in  public 
by  Dickens. 


TENIERS 

IT  is  a  pleasant  day  at  the  "Bunch  of 
Grapes  "  tavern,  and  newcomers  are  to  be 
met  with.  The  older  of  the  two  seated  on 
a  donkey  has  extracted  a  painting  from  his 
saddle-bags,  and  is  animatedly  expatiating  on 
its  merits  to  a  possible  purchaser,  who  is 
evidently  a  man  of  some  substance  —  a 
"grave  citizen."  Beside  him  stands  the  fat 
landlady,  with  arms  akimbo,  and  near  this 
couple  the  innkeeper,  pipe  in  hand,  watches 
the  younger  artist  engaged  in  sketching  a 


22O      The  Great  Masters  of  Painting 

quaint  little  child  who  offers  some  green 
stuff  to  the  patient  ass.  Hostler  and  serv- 
ing maid  peer  over  the  youthful  painter's 
shoulder  as  he  works,  and  complete  the 
group. 

The  would-be  seller  of  the  picture  is 
the  elder  Teniers  —  the  sketcher  is  his 
abler  and  more  famous  son,  David  Teniers, 
the  second  of  the  four  painters  who  bore 
that  name.  Legend  relates  that  at  one 
time  in  their  careers,  father  and  son  were 
in  the  habit  of  thus  disposing  of  their  work. 
But  this  could  have  been  only  for  a  com- 
paratively short  period,  as  the  younger 
Teniers  prospered  early  in  life.  He  became 
a  favorite  of  great  people,  among  whom 
were  Philip  IV.  of  Spain,  and  Christina  of 
Sweden,  and,  working  industriously  for  half 
a  century  or  so,  had,  at  the  end  of  his  long 
life  of  over  eighty  years,  produced  an  enor- 
mous number  of  pictures.  Teniers  is  called 
by  Ruskin  "the  painter  of  the  pleasures  of 


Teniers  221 

the  ale-house  and  card -table,"  and  most 
of  these  works  depict  scenes  of  common 
life,  —  boors  carousing,  gambling,  or  fighting, 
village  festivals,  guard-houses,  and  tavern  in- 
teriors,—  but  both  portraits  and  landscapes 
may  be  found  among  them,  and  even  mytho- 
logical and  sacred  subjects  are  not  wanting. 

Referring  to  Teniers's  variety  and  fecun- 
dity, F.  G.  Stephens  writes : 

"  Of  this  extraordinarily  energetic  and  pro- 
lific painter  the  records  recently  recovered 
by  French  and  Low  Country  archaeologists 
are  extremely  copious  and  curious.  The 
time  had  come  when  the  wild  ascription  to 
him  of  more  than  nine  hundred  pictures  — 
many  of  which  are  crowded  with  figures  at 
full  length,  surrounded  by  innumerable  de- 
tails, such  as  utensils,  toys,  weapons,  armor, 
animals,  furniture,  architectural  elements,  and 
what  not,  to  say  nothing  of  landscape  fea- 
tures, and  finished  with  touches  of  ineffable 
spirit,  firmness,  and  precision  —  should  be 


222       The  Great  Masters  of  Painting 

questioned.  It  is  desirable  that  Definite 
ideas  should  be  attained  of  what  in  the  pro- 
digious assembly  is  to  be  accepted  as  his, 
and  what  awarded  to  others  who  bore  his 
family  name,  as  well  as  to  those  imitators 
and  scholars  (the  terms  were  often  due  to 
one  and  the  same  person)  who  either  worked 
for  him  and  them,  or  were  neither  more  nor 
less  than  servile  copyists  of  the  masterpieces 
of  the  most  brilliant  and  accomplished  artist 
of  the  Flemish  school  of  the  seventeenth 
century.  .  .  , 

"The  impossibility  of  David  II.  having 
produced  all  the  works  ascribed  to  him  by 
Smith,  to  say  nothing  of  others  not  named  in 
the  great  '  Catalogue  Raisonne",'  is  manifest 
when  we  consider  how  highly  he  worked 
up  his  figures,  and  with  what  ineffable  skill 
—  the  despair  of  all  draughtsmen  per  se  — 
he  delineated  armor,  dresses,  weapons,  and 
still  life  at  large,  besides  buildings  and  land- 
scapes innumerable  of  details.  The  '  Arque- 


Teniers  223 

busiers '  is  perhaps  the  finest  of  its  kind,  but 
it  is  by  no  means  the  picture  of  Teniers 
which  comprises  the  greatest  number  of 
complete  and  highly  finished  whole-length 
figures.  Even  the  cold-blooded  Wilkie,  the 
only  modern,  except  Messieurs  Meissonier, 
Zamaco'fs,  and  half  a  dozen  Frenchmen  of 
triumphant  patience  and  indescribable  skill, 
who  has  approached  our  master  in  this  re- 
spect, said,  '  I  have  also '  (he  meant  like- 
wise) '  seen  some  pictures  by  Teniers,  which 
for  clear  touching  certainly  go  to  the  height 
of  human  perfection  in  art;  they  make  all 
other  pictures  look  misty  beside  them/ 
What  that  'clear  touching'  was,  which 
went  to  the  height  of  human  perfection,  may 
be  seen  in  such  instances  as  the  queen's 
Teniers  called  'The  Drummer,'  well  known 
in  Europe  as  <Le  Tambour  Battant,'  and 
dated  1657.  Compared  with  the  armor 
lying  on  our  right  in  this  canvas,  the  execu- 
tion of  which  is  as  veracious  as  it  is  magis- 


224       The  Great  Masters  of  Painting 

tral,  nothing  Wilkie  left  us  is  equal.^  Only  a 
few  Dutchmen  and  Flemings  of  the  seven- 
teenth century,  Van  Eyck  and  Memlinc  of 
the  fifteenth  century,  and  the  above-named 
Frenchmen  of  our  own  age,  have  approached 
this  triumph,  which  I  select  as  an  example 
not  only  of  finish  and  'clear  touching,'  but 
of  finesse,  and,  above  all,  of  breadth,  veracity, 
and  solidity.  Merely  to  toil  over  such  still 
life  as  this  is  not  to  come  near  the  honor  of 
Teniers  II.  ... 

"  To  a  man  who  worked  in  this  wonderful 
manner,  Smith  and  the  collectors  have 
awarded  a  host  of  pictures.  I  say  nothing 
of  his  invention  and  higher  capacities,  or  of 
the  genius  which,  with  force  and  wizardry 
almost  equal  to  Breughel's,  affected  incanta- 
tions, diablerie,  and  the  like  —  a  genius 
which  revelled  in  guard-houses  with  soldiery 
and  sutlers,  got  as  drunk  as  possible  at  ker- 
messes,  danced  wildly  at  feasts  of  the  rich 
and  poor,  played  at  cards  and  bowls  with 


Teniers  22$ 

peasants,  gambled  with  swashbucklers,  and 
attended  the  labors  of  armorers,  chemists, 
smiths,  clerks,  students,  women,  surgeons, 
and  tooth-drawers. 

"  Smith  enumerated  903  pictures  by  DavM 
Teniers  II.  Although  the  Marvel  of  Cata- 
loguers recorded  some  of  these  twice  over, 
—  e.  g.y  his  96  is  the  same  as  the  above- 
named  No.  20  and  the  supplement  No.  24, 
and  thus  that  work  stands  for  three, — 
the  total  is  monstrous.  To  his  followers, 
relations,  and  namesakes  (especially  to  his 
father)  we  may  fairly  attribute  the  majority, 
if  not  all  the  inferior  instances  and  small 
things  out  of  counting.  Their  lives  have 
been  absorbed  in  the  fruits  of  his.  The 
ablest  of  his  imitators  were  Apshoven, 
Ryckaert,  Van  Helmont,  De  Houdt,  and 
F.  Duchatel.  Nevertheless,  when  these 
worked  independently,  we  have  little  diffi- 
culty in  recognizing  the  works  of  each  man. 
Perhaps  Zorg,  likewise,  might  have  produced 


226       The  Great  Masters  of  Painting 

<^ 

some  '  Tenierses '  before  he  started  for  him- 
self. Long  as  was  the  life  of  David  II.,  and 
great  as  was  his  success,  we  cannot  accept 
more  than  two  hundred  paintings  of  all  kinds 
as  due  to  him  wholly,  or  even  largely.  It  is 
known  that  most  of  the  above-named  artists 
worked  for  him,  while  some  of  them  lived 
with  him.  It  is  to  be  hoped  that  the  hand- 
some Chateau  de  Perck,  near  Mechlin,  of 
which  he  painted  the  portrait  now  in  the 
National  Gallery,  was  not  maintained  by 
*  sweating '  his  assistants.  His  life  was  in- 
deed long  and  industrious." 

The  picture  of  the  two  Teniers  is  the 
work  of  George  Adolphus  Storey,  A.  R.  A., 
who  was  born  in  London  in  1834,  and  studied 
at  the  Royal  Academy  schools.  In  1864  he 
exhibited  "  The  Meeting  of  William  Seymour 
with  Lady  Arabella  Stuart  in  1609,"  a  pic- 
ture which  brought  him  prominently  into 
notice,  and  was  followed  by  another  historical 
subject,  entitled  "  The  Royal  Challenge/'  but 


Wren  227 

since  then  his  art  has  been  mainly  shown  in 
the  productions  of  portraits  of  fair  women 
and  children,  either  in  their  own  proper  char- 
acter or  under  some  fanciful  and  charming 
disguise,  and  of  some  admirable  bits  from  the 
life  of  the  seventeenth  and  eighteenth  cen- 
turies. To  the  latter  class  belong  "After 
You,"  "Scandal,"  "The  Old  Soldier,"  and 
"The  Old  Pump-room  at  Bath;"  to  the 
former,  "Little  Swansdown,"  "Lilies,  Ole- 
anders, and  the  Pink,"  "Sweet  Margery," 
and  "Mistress  Dorothy."  The  last-named 
picture  was  shown  at  the  Centennial  exhibi- 
tion in  1876,  together  with  Mr,  Storey's 
"Only  a  Rabbit." 

WREN 

"A  VARIETY  of  knowledge  proclaims  the 
universality,  a  multiplicity  of  works  the 
abundance,  St.  Paul's  the  greatness  of  Sir 
Christopher's  genius,"  said  Horace  Walpole 


228       The  Great  Masters  of  Painting 

<^ 

of  the  great  architect  who  poised  the  noble 
dome  of  London  above  the  great  city. 

Begun  in  1675,  St.  Paul's  Cathedral  was 
completed  in  thirty-five  years'  time,  at  a  cost 
of  about  .£750,000,  which  was  defrayed  by  a 
tax  on  coal.  Wren's  salary  as  architect  was 
but  ^200  a  year.  As  with  many  architects, 
before  and  since  his  time,  his  genius  was 
hampered  by  the  interference  of  those  who 
possessed  power  without  knowledge,  or  in- 
fluence unguided  by  justice.  The  following 
extract  from  the  most  authoritative  life  of 
Wren  yet  published  tells  something  of  the 
obstacles  placed  in  the  architect's  path. 

"  During  this  time  Sir  Christopher,  now 
formally  appointed  architect  of  St.  Paul's 
with  a  modest  salary  of  £200,3.  year,  had 
busied  himself  in  designs  for  the  future 
cathedral.  Every  one,  whether  qualified  or 
not,  gave  their  opinion  about  the  designs. 
The  first,  which  was  '  a  fabrick  of  moderate 
bulk,  but  of  good  proportion,  a  convenient 


Wren  229 

quire,  with  a  vestibule  and  portico,  and  a  dome 
conspicuous  above  the  houses,'  was  planned 
by  Wren  at  a  time  when  the  cathedral  fund 
was  very  small,  and  the  chances  of  increasing 
it  appeared  but  slender.  This  design  was 
rejected  as  deficient  in  size  and  grandeur. 
After  this,  in  order  to  find  out  what  style  of 
building  was  really  desired,  Wren  made  sev- 
eral sketches  *  merely  for  discourse  sake,' 
and  perceiving  that  the  generality  had  set 
their  hearts  upon  a  large  building,  he  de- 
signed one  with  which  he  was  himself  satis- 
fied, considering  it  'a  design  antique  and 
well  studied,  conformable  to  the  best  style  of 
Greek  and  Roman  architecture.'  The  design 
was  greatly  admired  by  those  who  understood 
the  matter,  and  they  begged  Sir  Christopher 
to  let  them  see  it  in  a  model.  Wren  accord- 
ingly made  a  large  one,  apparently  with  his 
own  hands,  in  wood,  with  all  the  intended 
ornaments  properly  carved.  Its  ground  plan 
was  that  of  a  Greek  cross,  the  choir  was 


230       The  Great  Masters  of  Painting 

<^ 
circular,  it  had  a  very   short  nave,  and  no 

aisles.  Externally  there  was  a  handsome 
portico,  one  small  dome  immediately  behind 
it,  and  over  the  centre  of  the  cross  a  larger 
dome.  Within  it  would  have  been  as  beauti- 
ful as  it  was  original,  with  the  eight  smaller 
domes,  not  seen  outside,  encircling  the  cen- 
tral dome.  The  Duke  of  York,  on  seeing  the 
plan,  complained  much  of  the  absence  of  side 
oratories,  such  as  are  common  in  most  foreign 
cathedrals,  and  insisted  upon  their  being 
added.  Sir  Christopher  knew  that  such  a 
change  would  cramp  the  building  and  break 
the  beauty  of  the  design  to  a  degree  that 
went  to  his  heart.  He  shed  tears  in  attempt- 
ing to  change  the  duke's  opinion.  The  lat- 
ter was,  as  ever,  obstinate,  and  the  change 
had  to  be  made. 

"  The  outside,  with  the  two  hollow  curves 
joining  the  transepts  with  the  nave,  and  the 
two  different  sized  domes,  would  probably 
have  been  disappointing ;  but  one  speaks  with 


Wren  231 

diffidence,  for  this  was  Sir  Christopher's 
favorite  design,  the  St.  Paul's  which  he  told 
his  son  he  would  most  cheerfully  have  ac- 
complished. When  the  time  came  for  work- 
ing out  the  design,  it  is  very  likely  that  he 
would  have  remedied  many  of  the  defects 
which  critical  eyes  now  see  in  the  model ; 
but  no  such  opportunity  ever  came.  Prep- 
arations were  indeed  made,  in  May,  1674, 
for  a  building  after  this  design ;  but  the 
clergy  were  startled  by  the  novelty  of  the 
plan,  the  circular  choir,  and  the  absence  of 
aisles,  and  the  architect  was  compelled  to 
give  up  his  cherished  scheme.  Several  de- 
signs, none  equal  to  the  first,  were  produced 
by  Sir  Christopher,  the  large  central  dome 
appearing  in  each  of  them.  Upon  this  feature 
he  had  determined,  even  in  the  days  before 
the  fire,  when  the  old  pointed  choir  still 
stood. 

"  At  length  Wren  grew  weary  of  criticism 
and    showed   his    designs   no   more  to  the 


232       The  Great  Masters  of  Painting 

public.  King  Charles  decided  on  one,  and 
issued  a  warrant  for  its  erection,  stating  that 
the  duty  on  coal  amounted  to  a  considerable 
sum,  and  saying : 

"  'Among  the  designs  we  have  particularly 
pitched  on  one,  as  well  because  we  find  it 
very  artificial,  proper,  and  useful,  as  because 
it  was  so  ordered  that  it  might  be  built  and 
finished  by  parts.'  The  east  end  was  to  be 
begun  first.  Liberty  was  left  to  Wren  'to 
make  some  variations,  rather  ornamental  than 
essential,  as  from  time  to  time  he  should  see 
proper,'  and  the  whole  was  left  to  his 
management. 

"This  design  is  wholly  unlike  the  present 
cathedral,  and  is  inferior  to  any  of  Wren's 
other  buildings.  'Artificial/  in  the  modern 
sense  of  the  word,  it  undoubtedly  is.  The 
west  end  much  resembles  St.  Paul's  as  Inigo 
Jones  left  it,  and  is  poor  and  flat ;  there  is  a 
low,  flat  dome,  then  a  lantern,  with  ribbed 
vaulting,  surmounted  by  a  spire  something 


Wren  233 

like  St.  Bride's,  but  thin  and  ungraceful. 
One  feels  that  Wren  must  have  been  dis- 
gusted with  the  design  when  finished,  and 
could  only  have  done  such  a  thing  at  a  time 
when  his  genius  was  rebuked  and  harassed 
by  vexatious  limitations  and  interference. 
Accepted,  however,  the  design  was,  and 
Wren,  provided  with  funds,  and  ordered 
to  begin,  shook  off  the  fetters  which  had 
so  cramped  him,  and  by  a  series  of  altera- 
tions, which  certainly  reversed  the  king's 
order,  being  essential  rather  than  orna- 
mental, he  by  degrees  worked  out  the  plan 
of  the  beautiful  St.  Paul's  which  is  the 
crown  of  London. 

"No  objection  seems  to  have  been  raised 
to  these  changes. 

"  He  had  a  large  staff  of  workmen  under 
him,  and  an  assistant  surveyor,  John  Oliver, 
who  directed  the  workmen,  measured  the 
masons'  work,  bought  in  materials,  and  ex- 
amined the  accounts  ;  a  clerk  of  the  works, 


234      The  Great  Masters  of  Painting 

Laurence  Spencer,  who  overlooked  the  men, 
saw  that  they  did  their  work  as  directed,  and 
made  up  the  accounts;  each  of  these  was 
paid  ;£ioo  a  year,  half  as  much  as  the  salary 
of  the  architect  himself;  a  clerk  of  the 
cheque,  Thomas  Russel,  who  called  over 
the  laborers  three  times  a  day,  and  kept 
them  to  their  business.  Besides  these,  there 
was  the  master-mason,  Thomas  Strong,  the 
master-builder  of  St.  Stephen's,  Walbrook, 
frequently  employed  by  Wren,  and  the  mas- 
ter-carpenter, Richard  Jennings ;  all  were 
carefully  chosen,  and  were  devoted  to  Sir 
Christopher,  whose  great  genius,  gentle  dis- 
position, and  steady,  equable  mind,  made 
him  much  beloved  and  respected. 

"On  June  21,  1675,  the  first  stone  of  St. 
Paul's  was  laid  by  Sir  Christopher  and  his 
master-mason,  not  by  King  Charles,  as  is 
sometimes  said." 

The  year  1710  arrived  and  found  Wren 
laying  the  last  stone  of  the  building. 


Wren  235 

"All  London  had  poured  forth  for  the 
spectacle,  which  had  been  publicly  an- 
nounced, and  were  looking  up  in  wonder 
to  the  old  man  .  .  .  who  was  on  that  won- 
drous height  setting  the  seal,  as  it  were,  to 
his  august  labors.  If  in  that  wide  circle 
which  his  eye  might  embrace  there  were 
various  objects  for  regret  and  disappoint- 
ment ;  if,  instead  of  beholding  the  various 
streets  of  the  city,  each  converging  to  its 
centre,  London  had  sprung  up  and  spread 
in  irregular  labyrinths  of  close,  dark,  intri- 
cate lanes ;  if  even  his  own  cathedral  was 
crowded  upon  and  jostled  by  mean  and 
unworthy  buildings ;  yet,  on  the  other  hand, 
he  might  survey,  not  the  cathedral  only,  but 
a  number  of  stately  churches  which  had  risen 
at  his  command  and  taken  form  and  dignity 
from  his  genius  and  skill.  On  one  side,  the 
picturesque  steeple  of  St.  Mary-le-Bow ;  on 
the  other,  the  exquisite  tower  of  St.  Bride's, 
with  all  its  graceful,  gradually  diminishing 


236       The  Great  Masters  of  Painting 

«^ 

circles,  not  yet  shorn  of  its  full  and  finely 
proportioned  height.  Beyond,  and  on  all 
sides,  if  more  dimly  seen,  yet  discernible  by 
his  partial  eyesight  (he  might  even  penetrate 
to  the  inimitable  interior  of  St.  Stephen's, 
Walbrook),  church  after  church,  as  far  as 
St.  Dunstan's-in-the-East,  perhaps  Green- 
wich, may  have  been  vaguely  made  out  in 
the  remote  distance;  and  all  this  one  man 
had  been  permitted  to  conceive  and  execute 
—  a  man  not  originally  destined  or  educated 
for  an  architect,  but  compelled,  as  it  were, 
by  the  public  necessities  to  assume  the  office, 
and  so  to  fulfil  it  as  to  stand  on  a  level  with 
the  most  consummate  masters  of  the  art  in 
Europe,  and  to  take  his  stand  on  an  emi- 
nence which  his  English  successors  almost 
despair  of  attaining.  .  .  .  Once  a  year  it  was 
his  habit  to  be  driven  to  London,  and  to  sit  for 
awhile  under  the  dome  of  his  own  cathedral. 
On  one  of  these  journeys  he  caught  a  cold, 
and  soon  afterward,  on  February  25,  1723, 


Wren  237 

his  servant,  thinking  Sir  Christopher  slept 
longer  after  dinner  than  was  his  wont,  came 
into  the  room,  and  found  his  master  dead  in 
his  chair,  with  an  expression  of  perfect  peace 
on  the  calm  features. 

"  They  buried  him  near  his  daughter  in  the 
southeast  crypt  of  St.  Paul's,  by  one  of  the 
windows,  under  a  plain  marble  slab,  with  this 
inscription :  '  Here  lieth  Sir  Christopher 
Wren,  the  builder  of  St.  Paul's,  etc.,  who 
died  in  the  year  of  our  Lord  MDCCXXIII., 
and  of  his  age  XCI.' 

"  The  spite  of  those  who  had  hampered  his 
genius  in  life  showed  itself  again  after  his 
death.  The  famous  inscription,  written  by 
his  son,  'Subtus  conditur  hujus  Ecclesiae 
et  Urbis  Conditor  Christophorus  Wren,  qui 
vixit  annos  ultra  nonaginta,  non  sibi,  sed  bono 
publico.  Lector,  si  Monumentum  requiris, 
circumspice/  was  placed  in  the  crypt,  and  in 
the  cathedral  itself  there  was  nothing  to  pre- 
serve the  memory  of  its  architect. 


238       The  Great  Masters  of  Painting 

^-^ 
"  This  has  in  later  years  been  remedied,  and 

the  inscription  is  now  in  gold  letters  over  the 
door  of  the  north  transept.  Some  of  Sir 
Christopher's  plans  have,  as  has  been  shown, 
been  executed ;  and  further,  the  cathedral  has 
been  set  in  green  turf,  and  all  around  it  is 
cared  for  instead  of  neglected,  the  once  empty 
campanile  is  rilled  by  twelve  bells,  whose 
music  floats  down  over  the  roar  of  London, 
as  if  out  of  the  sky  itself,  and  the  dome  is 
filled  by  vast  congregations  in  the  way  which 
Sir  Christopher  almost  foresaw. 

"  In  the  cathedral  his  memory  is  cherished  ; 
but  in  the  city  of  London,  which  he  rebuilt 
from  its  ashes,  no  statue  has  been  erected  to 
him,  no  great  street  has  been  honored  by 
taking  as  its  own  the  name  of  Christopher 
Wren,  though  a  name  — 

"  '  On  fame's  eternall  beadroll  worthie  to  be  fyled.' " 

In  our  picture  Wren  leans  upon  the  plan 
spread  on  a  half-carved  capital,  while  Charles 


Wren  239 

II.  stands  beside  him,  and  turns  to  address 
some  member  of  the  group  accompanying 
him.  In  this  group  the  artist  has  portrayed 
the  Duke  of  York,  John  Evelyn,  Pepys  the 
diarist,  and  Grinling  Gibbons,  the  famous 
carver,  whose  beautiful  work  is  so  often  met 
with  in  the  buildings  designed  by  Wren. 

John  Seymour  Lucas,  who  painted  this 
canvas  of  the  Merry  Monarch's  visit  to 
Wren,  was  born  in  1849,  and  received  his 
art  education  in  the  schools  of  the  Royal 
Academy.  His  "  Fleeced,"  a  picture  of  a 
young  heir  who  has  been  robbed  of  his  patri- 
mony by  card  sharpers,  made  a  hit  in  1876. 
Since  then  his  successes  have  been  numer- 
ous. They  include  "Intercepted  Des- 
patches," "The  Gordon  Riots,"  "The  Ar- 
mada in  Sight "  (the  two  last  belong  to  the 
gallery  of  Sydney,  N.  S,  W.),  "After  Sedge- 
moor,"  "Charles  I.  before  Gloucester,"  "A 
« Whip '  for  Van  Tromp,"  "  The  Latest  Scan- 
dal," and  "The  Surrender."  "After  Cul- 


240       The  Great  Masters  of  Painting 

^-^ 

loden "  is  in  the  National  Gallery  of  British 
Art,  and  among  the  frescoes  in  the  Royal 
Exchange,  Seymour  Lucas  is  represented  by 
"William  the  Conqueror  Granting  the  Char- 
ter to  the  Citizens  of  London."  He  was 
elected  a  full  member  of  the  Royal  Academy 
in  1898. 

HOGARTH 

IN  the  autumn  of  1748,  the  "Juvenal  of 
Painting "  made  that  brief  but  memorable 
visit  to  France,  during  which,  some  of  his 
biographers  assert,  he  met  with  a  mishap 
which  came  near  cutting  his  career  short, 
and  depriving  us  of  the  excellent  work  which 
he  afterward  produced.  Nichols  says  that 
Hogarth  was  arrested  at  Calais,  while  sketch- 
ing the  gate  of  the  town,  and  taken  before 
the  governor,  who  assured  him  that,  had  not 
the  peace  (of  Aix  la  Chapelle)  been  actually 
signed,  he  should  have  been  obliged  to  hang 
him  forthwith  upon  the  ramparts  as  a  spy. 


Hogarth  241 

The  painter's  own  account  of  the  affair 
makes  no  mention  of  the  danger  of  such  a 
serious  termination  of  the  episode.  He  re- 
lated it  thus  : 

"  The  next  print  I  engraved  was  the  '  Roast 
Beef  of  Old  England  '  (published  March  6, 
1749),  which  took  its  rise  from  a  visit  I  paid 
to  France  the  preceding  year.  The  first 
time  an  Englishman  goes  from  Dover  to 
Calais,  he  must  be  struck  with  the  different 
face  of  things  at  so  little  a  distance.  A 
farcical  pomp  of  war,  pompous  parade  of 
religion,  and  much  bustle  with  very  little 
business.  To  sum  up  all,  poverty,  slavery, 
and  innate  insolence,  covered  with  an  affecta- 
tion of  politeness,  give  you  even  here  a  true 
picture  of  the  manners  of  the  whole  nation  ; 
nor  are  the  priests  less  opposite  to  those  of 
Dover,  than  the  two  shores.  The  friars  are 
dirty,  sleek,  and  solemn ;  the  soldiery  are 
lean,  ragged,  and  tawdry ;  and  as  to  the 
fish  worn  en  —  their  faces  are  absolute  leather. 


242       The  Great  Masters  of  Painting 

<^ 

"As  I  was  sauntering  about  and  observing 
them,  near  the  gate  which  it  seems  was  built 
by  the  English  when  the  place  was  in  our 
possession,  I  remarked  some  appearance  of 
the  arms  of  England  on  the  front.  By  this 
and  idle  curiosity,  I  was  prompted  to  make  a 
sketch  of  it,  which  being  observed,  I  was 
taken  into  custody;  but  not  attempting  to 
cancel  any  of  my  sketches  or  memorandums, 
which  were  found  to  be  merely  those  of  a 
painter  for  his  private  use,  without  any  re- 
lation to  fortification,  it  was  not  thought  nec- 
essary to  send  me  back  to  Paris.  I  was 
only  closely  confined  to  my  own  lodgings, 
till  the  wind  changed  for  England ;  where  I 
no  sooner  arrived,  than  I  set  about  the  pic- 
ture. Made  the  gate  my  background,  and  in 
one  corner  introduced  my  own  portrait,  which 
has  generally  been  thought  a  correct  likeness, 
with  the  soldier's  hand  upon  my  shoulder. 
By  the  fat  friar  who  stops  the  lean  cook  that 
is  sinking  under  the  weight  of  a  vast  sirloin 


Hogarth  243 

of  beef,  and  two  of  the  military  bearing  off  a 
great  kettle  of  soupe  maigre,  I  meant  to  dis- 
play to  my  own  countrymen  the  striking  dif- 
ference between  the  food,  priests,  soldiers, 
etc.,  of  two  nations  so  contiguous,  that  in  a 
clear  day  one  coast  may  be  seen  from  the 
other.  The  melancholy  and  miserable  High- 
lander, browsing  on  his  scanty  fare,  consist- 
ing of  a  bit  of  bread  and  an  onion,  is  intended 
for  one  of  the  many  that  fled  from  this  coun- 
try after  the  rebellion." 

"  Besides  the  figures  Hogarth  mentions/' 
says  Austin  Dobson,  "  there  are,  to  the  left  of 
the  picture,  a  pair  of  basket-women,  who  are 
making  merry  over  the  resemblance  to  a 
human  face  which  a  sufficiently  *  leathern ' 
fishwife  has  discovered  in  a  skate  she  holds 
in  her  lap.  But  the  artist  has  cleverly  sug- 
gested a  fact  of  which  possibly  they  them- 
selves are  ignorant,  and  that  is  the  strong 
similarity  between  this  face  and  their  own 
weather-beaten  features.  In  the  representa- 


244       The  Great  Masters  of  Painting 

s±~s 
tion   of  the  two  sentinels  he  has  given  full 

value  to  the  <  ragged  and  tawdry  '  element  in 
the  French  soldiers.  One  has  paper  ruffles, 
on  which  the  words  *  Grand  Monarch,  P '  are 
plainly  legible ;  his  smallclothes  are  fastened 
by  a  skewer,  and  he  has  a  large  hole  in  his 
gaiter.  Opposite,  his  equally  famished  and 
tattered  companion  spills  his  skillet  of  soup 
from  sheer  bewilderment  at  the  goodly  Eng- 
lish fare.  Next  to  this  personage  is  the 
squinting  and  stunted  figure  of  an  Irish 
mercenary,  to  whose  national  bravery  the 
painter  has  paid  a  compliment  by  giving  him 
a  bullet-hole  through  his  hat.  In  the  back- 
ground, through  the  gate,  a  priest  is  carrying 
the  Host  to  a  sick  person,  and  the  people 
fall  on  their  knees  as  it  passes.  The  fat 
Franciscan  was  a  portrait  of  Pine,  the  en- 
graver of  St.  Martin's  Lane,  who  was  only 
moderately  gratified  with  the  compliment,  as 
it  procured  him  the  nickname  of  '  Friar  Pine.' 
He  endeavored  to  induce  the  artist  to  modify 


Hogarth  245 

the   likeness,    but    this    Hogarth    resolutely 
refused. 

"Though  not  one  of  Hogarth's  capital 
works,  '  Calais  Gate/  in  its  engraved  form, 
at  once  became  popular,  on  account  of  its 
subject.  The  starved  French  sentinel  was 
speedily  appropriated  as  a  heading  for  re- 
cruiting advertisements,  where  he  figured  in 
humiliating  contrast  to  a  well-fed  British  vol- 
unteer. Besides  this,  Theodosius  Forrest  — 
son  of  the  Forrest  who  had  been  Hogarth's 
companion  in  the  '  five  days'  tour '  —  turned 
the  whole  into  a  cantata,  which  was  headed 
by  a  reduced  copy  of  the  print.  These  are 
the  initial  lines  of  this  patriotic  performance : 

" « 'Twas  at  the  Gates  of  Calais,  Hogarth  tells, 
Where  sad  Despair  and  Famine  always  dwells ; 
A  meagre  Frenchman,  Madame  Grandsire's  Cook, 
As  home  he  steer'd  his  Carcase,  that  way  took, 
Bending  beneath  the  weight  of  famed  Sir-loin 
On  whom  he  often  wish'd  in  vain  to  dine. 
Good  Father  Dominick  by  chance  came  by, 
With  rosy  gills,  round  paunch,  and  greedy  eye, 


246       The  Great  Masters  of  Painting 

^^ 

Who,  when  he  first  beheld  the  greasy  load, 
His  benediction  on  it  he  bestow'd.' " 

Hogarth's  picture  of  "  Calais  Gate "  now 
belongs  to  the  British  nation,  having  been 
presented  to  the  National  Gallery  by  the 
Duke  of  Westminster,  in  1895.  By  a 
curious  coincidence,  this  was  the  year  in 
which  the  old  gate  was  at  last  demolished. 
In  1891  the  picture  had  been  sold  in  London 
for  ,£2,572,  the  record  price  for  a  Hogarth  up 
to  that  time. 

William  Powell  Frith,  the  Royal  Acade- 
mician who  painted  "  Hogarth  at  Calais,"  was 
once  "  the  most  widely  popular  painter  of  his 
day  "  —  "  his  day  "  being  supposed  to  mean 
the  sixth  and  seventh  decades  of  the  nine- 
teenth century.  In  1854  he  won  his  first 
great  success  with  "  Ramsgate  Sands ; "  in 
1858  came  the  "Derby  Day;"  in  1862,  the 
"Railway  Station;"  and  in  1865  his  "Mar- 
riage of  the  Prince  of  Wales,"  painted  for 
the  queen,  was  completed. 


Hogarth  247 

Born  in  1819,  Mr.  Frith  sent  his  first 
picture  to  the  Royal  Academy  in  1840,  and 
he  was  also  represented  there  in  1900.  The 
sixty  years  that  lie  between  these  dates  have 
seen  many  works  from  his  industrious  and 
able  hand,  and  "Hogarth  before  the  Gov- 
ernor of  Calais,"  exhibited  in  1851,  is  not  one 
of  the  least  meritorious.  The  painter  is  a 
warm  admirer  of  Hogarth,  and  may  indeed 
be  said  to  be  himself  a  milder  Hogarth  — 
witness  his  series  of  monitory  pictures,  en- 
titled « The  Road  to  Ruin,"  and  "  The  Race 
for  Wealth." 

Note  in  Mr.  Frith' s  "Hogarth  at  Calais" 
the  painter's  dog,  Trump,  at  his  heels,  as, 
sketch-book  in  hand,  he  seeks  to  justify  him- 
self to  the  governor.  Excellent  character, 
too,  is  displayed  in  that  dignitary's  old  clerk, 
pen  in  mouth.  The  Englishman  between  the 
friar  and  the  soldier,  and  the  one  who,  hold- 
ing out  a  paper  to  the  governor,  is  bidden  to 
stand  back,  are  intended  for  two  friends  of 


248       The  Great  Masters  of  Painting 

^-^ 

Hogarth,  who  accompanied  him  on  his  trip  to 
France. 

REYNOLDS 

AFTER  Reynolds,  then  a  young  man  of 
twenty-nine,  returned  from  his  long  tour  on 
the  Continent,  he  opened  his  first  London 
studio,  with  his  younger  sister,  Frances,  as 
housekeeper.  This  was  in  St.  Martin's  Lane, 
a  favorite  resort  of  artists,  in  a  house  which 
survived  the  great  portrait-painter  for  nearly 
a  century,  but  which  has  now  vanished  be- 
fore the  "  march  of  improvement."  Sir 
Joshua's  second  abode  in  London  was  at 
5  Great  Newport  Street,  not  far  from  St. 
Martin's  Lane,  —  all  his  London  residences 
were  within  five  minutes'  walk  of  each  other, 
—  and  here  he  painted  portraits  of  the 
Duchess  of  Hamilton  and  the  Countess  of 
Coventry,  formerly  the  beautiful  Miss  Gun- 
nings. Some  of  his  best  work  was  done 
about  this  period,  which  was  his  busiest  and 


Reynolds  249 

most  lucrative  time,  and  it  is  said  that  in 
1758  he  had  as  many  as  one  hundred  and 
fifty  sitters  in  the  course  of  the  year. 

Early  in  1760  Reynolds  moved  to  Leices- 
ter Square,  where  he  leased  a  mansion  for 
forty-seven  years  for  ,£1,650,  in  addition  to 
£1,500,  which  he  had  to  pay  for  a  gallery 
and  painting-rooms,  not  only  for  himself  but 
for  the  use  of  his  pupils  and  assistants.  To 
the  expense  of  this  new  establishment  was 
added  a  fine  carriage,  gilded  and  decorated, 
which  the  artist  now  set  up.  These  large 
outlays  consumed  nearly  all  his  savings,  so 
it  is  not  strange  that  he  raised  his  prices 
for  heads,  half-lengths,  and  full-lengths  to 
twenty-five,  fifty,  and  a  hundred  guineas, 
respectively. 

Though  the  Leicester  Square  house  still 
stands,  interior  alterations  have  done  away 
with  Sir  Joshua's  painting-room.  The  Royal 
Academy  owns  his  sitter's  chair,  also  the  easel, 
of  mahogany  and  elaborately  carved,  given  to 


250       The  Great  Masters  of  Painting 

the  artist  by  his  friend  Mason,  the  poet. 
Reynolds  always  stood  up  while  painting,  and 
usually  worked  from  eleven  till  four  o'clock. 

Miss  Gerard  has  written  an  interesting 
paper  upon  Sir  Joshua's  models. 

She  says :  "  Again,  with  women  of  a  dif- 
ferent class,  how  well  he  conveys  their  lack 
of  dignity,  and  yet  gives  them  all  their  won- 
derful fascinations ;  as,  for  instance,  in  his 
portrait  of  the  capricious,  wilful  favorite  of 
the  public,  Mrs.  Abingdon.  The  hoydenish 
simplicity  of  the  actress  is  well  depicted  in 
the  Saltram  picture  of  her  as  Miss  Prue, 
with  her  arms  leaning  on  the  back  of  a 
chair  and  her  thumb  upon  her  lips.  It  is 
a  masterpiece,  and  happily  is  in  excellent 
preservation.  Mrs.  Abingdon  was  a  great 
favorite  with  Sir  Joshua,  but  she  was  not 
one  of  his  models.  From  his  note-books  we 
find  Nelly  O'Brien  and  Kitty  Fisher  were 
his  principal,  sitters.  He  painted  Nelly  in 
different  attitudes,  many  times ;  perhaps  not 


Reynolds  251 

quite  so  often  as  Kitty,  whom  he  seemed  to 
have  preferred.  Perhaps  the  most  beautiful 
of  Nelly  is  the  one  in  the  Hertford  collec- 
tion, which  was  painted  in  1763  and  was 
exhibited  at  the  Manchester  Exhibition  in 
1857.  It  represents  her  in  full  sunlight, 
in  an  attitude  of  lazy  enjoyment,  sitting  with 
her  hands  crossed,  a  pet  spaniel  on  her  knee. 
Her  voluptuous  face,  raised  as  if  at  the  ap- 
proach of  one  she  has  been  watching  for, 
is  lit  up  under  the  shade  of  the  flat  Wof- 
fington  hat  by  the  reflected  lights  from  her 
dress,  a  quilted  rose-colored  slip  with  lace 
over  it,  a  black  lace  apron  and  mantilla,  and 
a  sacque  of  striped  blue  silk.  .  .  . 

"  Her  rival,  Kitty  Fischer,  or  Fisher,  dis- 
puted with  her  the  post  of  Sir  Joshua's  fa- 
vorite model.  Kitty's  name  is  constantly 
recurring  in  the  note-books  of  the  painter. 
She  was  a  German  by  birth,  her  father  being 
a  cabinet-maker  in  Ovenden  Street,  while  her 
uncle  played  the  hautboy  at  the  Opera  House. 


252       The  Great  Masters  of  Painting 

Si^ 

Kitty,  like  Nelly  O'Brien,  began  by  being  an 
actress,  but  soon  gave  up  the  profession. 
She  was  brought  to  Sir  Joshua's  studio  by 
his  friend  Keppel,  and  from  that  time  she 
was  his  constant  model  for  many  years. 

"  In  his  pocket-book  for  1759  is  the  date  of 
the  first  sitting  —  Sunday,  April  Qth.  This 
appointment  with  Miss  Fisher  is  in  Sir  Josh- 
ua's handwriting ;  the  next  appointment  is  in 
a  different  one,  —  Mr.  Cotton  conjectures  the 
lady's,  —  and  there  is  an  N.  B. :  'Miss 
Fisher's  picture  is  for  Sir  Charles  Bingham.' 
Kitty  was  what  was  called  a  'Huckaback 
Beauty;'  she  was  less  handsome,  but  more 
dangerously  fascinating  than  Nelly  O'Brien. 
There  were  seven  portraits  of  her  by  Sir 
Joshua.  Of  these,  perhaps,  the  most  beauti- 
ful for  coloring  and  delicious  languor  of  re- 
pose is  <  Cleopatra  Dissolving  the  Pearl,'  which 
he  painted  for  his  great  friend,  Mr.  Parker 
of  Saltram,  afterward  Lord  Morley,  in  whose 
collection  it  is. 


Reynolds  253 

"  It  is  a  curious  fact  that  in  all  her  portraits 
Kitty  looks  the  same  age,  and  all  are  equally 
lovely,  *  Simplicity '  being,  perhaps,  the  least 
satisfactory.  Here  she  has  one  dove  on  her 
lap,  another  on  her  knee.  There  is  an  af- 
fected air  of  steadiness  belied  by  the  sly  look 
in  the  eyes,  and  which  does  not  not  sit  well 
upon  a  lady  of  Miss  Fisher's  vivacity.  One 
can  hardly  acquit  the  artist  of  a  touch  of 
irony  toward  his  favorite.  Leslie  says,  'The 
lady  looks  as  innocent  as  her  doves,  as  no 
doubt  she  could  look  if  she  so  pleased.1  It  is, 
however,  an  admirable  picture,  and  was  very 
popular. 

"  At  Petworth  there  is  a  quaint  and  lovely 
portrait  of  her,  with  her  arms  crossed  upon 
a  letter  which  lies  before  her.  Upon  the 
paper  fold  is  written:  'June  Qth,  1759.  My 
dear  Kitty  Fisher.' 

"Another  portrait  of  her  is  in  the  Lans- 
downe  Gallery,  with  a  parrot  on  her  finger. 
The  loveliest  of  all,  however,  is  an  unfinished 


254       The  Great  Masters  of  Painting 

^^ 
head  in  powder  and  fly-cap,  done  for  Lord 

Carysfort.  This  is  the  last  one  of  her,  for  in 
1767  she  became  Mrs.  Norris,  having  suc- 
ceeded in  inducing  a  young  gentleman  of 
good  family  to  marry  her,  and  from  this 
time  she  disappeared  from  the  note-books. 

"Kitty,  unlike  her  rival,  Nelly,  was  well 
educated,  and  had  many  attractions,  being, 
Mr.  Leslie  says,  'A  very  agreeable,  genteel 
person.  She  was  the  essence  of  small  talk 
and  the  magazine  of  temporary  anecdote ; 
add  to  this,  she  spoke  French  with  great 
fluency,  and  was  mistress  of  a  most  uncom- 
mon share  of  spirits.  It  was  impossible  to 
be  dull  in  her  company,  as  she  would  ridicule 
her  own  foibles  rather  than  want  a  subject 
for  raillery.  Her  constant  companion,  Miss 
Summers,  afterward  Mrs.  Skeyne,  whom  she 
introduced  into  all  her  parties,  was  another 
great  source  of  entertainment,  as  this  lady 
was  not  only  a  professed  satirist,  but  a 
woman  of  learning  and  an  excellent  compan- 


Reynolds  255 

ion.'  .  .  .  Another  sitter  to  Sir  Joshua  was 
the  beautiful  Miss  Morris,  who  sat  for  one 
of  his  loveliest  creations,  '  Hope  Nursing 
Love.'  It  was  exhibited  at  the  first  exhib- 
ition of  the  Royal  Academy,  1769.  The 
picture,  which  is  in  the  Bowood  Gallery,  has 
kept  its  color  better  than  almost  any  of  Sir 
Joshua's. 

"The  story  of  the  young  lady  who  sat  for 
this  beautiful  picture  is  somewhat  pathetic. 
She  was  the  daughter  of  Mr.  Valentine 
Morris,  governor  of  one  of  the  West  Indian 
Islands.  On  his  death,  his  widow  with  her 
four  children  came  to  England  in  great  pov- 
erty, and  Sir  Joshua,  who  had  known  them 
in  better  days,  took  the  liveliest  interest  in  the 
family.  It  was  thought  that  if  she  adopted 
the  stage  as  a  profession,  her  beauty  and 
grace  might  ensure  her  success.  When, 
through  Sir  Joshua's  interest,  she  appeared 
at  Covent  Garden,  in  November,  1768,  as 
Juliet,  her  friends  mustered  in  great  force  to 


256       The  Great  Masters  of  Painting 

support  her  through  the  ordeal.  Sir  Joshua 
was  there,  and  Johnson  and  Goldsmith,  be- 
tween the  Jessamy  Bride  and  Little  Comedy, 
but  even  their  friendly  faces  could  not  in- 
spire the  poor  girl  with  any  courage.  She 
could  not  utter  a  word,  and  was  obliged  to 
retreat  ignominiously.  No  entreaties  could 
induce  her  to  appear  again.  "Her  failure, 
however,  preyed  upon  her,  and  she  died  soon 
after  of  rapid  consumption. 

"For  his  'Venus/  which  was  one  of  the 
best  of  his  mythological  pictures,  Sir  Joshua 
employed  as  his  model  a  very  beautiful  girl 
of  sixteen,  the  daughter  of  his  man  servant, 
Ralph.  Mason,  describing  his  visit  to  the 
studio,  remarks : 

"  '  I  have  said  that  Sir  Joshua  always  had 
a  living  archetype  before  him  whenever  he 
painted  what  was  not  a  mere  portrait.  In 
this  practice  he  imitated  Guido,  who  would 
make  a  common  porter  sit  to  him  for  a 
Madonna,  merely  to  have  that  nature  before 


Reynolds  257 

him  from  which  he  might  depart.      So,  in 
this  instance  of  the  "  Venus."  When  I  saw  the 

4 

picture  on  the  easel,  he  was  finishing  the 
head,  a  young  girl,  her  flaxen  hair  flowing 
on  her  shoulders,  sitting  opposite  to  him. 
When  next  I  came,  he  was  painting  the  body, 
and  in  his  sitting-chair  was  a  beggar  woman 
with  a  nude  child,  not  above  a  year  old,  on 
her  knee.  As  may  be  imagined,  I  could  not 
help  expressing  my  astonishment  at  seeing 
him  paint  the  carnation  of  the  Goddess  of 
Beauty  from  such  an  unhealthy  -  looking 
model,  but  he  answered  that,  whatever  I 
might  think,  the  child's  flesh  assisted  him  in 
giving  a  certain  morbidezza  to  his  own  color- 
ing, which  he  thought  he  could  not  arrive  at 
had  he  not  such  an  object  before  his  eyes.' 
"We  come  now  to  the  most  celebrated 
model  of  her  day  —  that  extraordinary 
woman,  Emma  Harte,  or  Lyon,  afterward 
the  Lady  Hamilton.  Although  she  did  sit 
to  Sir  Joshua  twice,  she  was  not  a  favorite 


258       The  Great  Masters  of  Painting 

^^ 

model  of  his,  neither  was  he  successful  in  the 
one  portrait  he  has  left  of  her.  Romney 
caught  the  laughing  devil  in  her  wonderful 
eyes;  Sir  Joshua  escaped  it. 

"It  is  not  easy  to  say  whether  the  Miss 
Kelly  whose  name  appears  so  often  in  Sir 
Joshua's  note-books  was  paid  for  her  sittings 
to  the  artist,  for  she,  like  Miss  Morris,  had  a 
father  in  bad  circumstances.  Miss  Kelly 
was  remarkably  handsome,  and  had  the  honor 
of  attracting  for  some  time  the  wandering 
fancy  of  Dean  Swift.  Mrs.  Delany,  in  her 
letters  to  Miss  Bushe,  talks  of  the  conquest 
'Pretty  Kelly  has  made  of  the  dean.  He 
is  in  love  with  her  at  present? 

"  In  his  latter  days  a  niece  of  Sir  Joshua, 
Miss  Theophila  Palmer,  the  <  Offey '  of  the 
note-books,  and  who  was  to  him  as  a  daugh- 
ter, sat  constantly  for  his  fancy  sketches, 
more  especially  for  those  in  which  girlish 
archness  is  the  dominant  expression,  such  as 
the  '  Strawberry  Girl '  and  the  '  Laughing 


Reynolds  259 

Girl ; '  there  is  also  a  Miss  Jones,  who  sat 
occasionally,  and  the  unfortunate  Emily  Cov- 
entry, who  sat  for  the  picture  of  '  Thais ; ' 
with  her  ends  the  list  of  Sir  Joshua's  female 
models." 

The  late  Charles  Green,  an  admirable 
English  artist  in  black  and  white  and  water- 
color,  drew  the  picture  of  Sir  Joshua  at 
work,  which  we  reproduce.  Green,  who  was 
born  in  1840  and  died  in  1898,  made  many 
excellent  illustrations  to  Dickens,  and  was 
one  of  the  foremost  among  the  able  band  of 
artists  who  worked  on  the  Graphic.  To  the 
Royal  Academy  he  contributed,  among  other 
works,  "A  Consultation,"  "The  Girl  I  Left 
Behind  Me,"  "  A  Choice  Vintage,"  and  "  A 
Fleet  Marriage.'1 


260       The  Great  Masters  of  Painting 


PAJOU 

WITH  all  her  faults  Madame  du  Barry  was, 
according  to  a  late  biographer,  far  from  being 
as  black  as  she  was  painted. 

At  all  events,  she  appears  to  have  pos- 
sessed some  taste  in  literature,  possibly, 
also,  in  art.  Her  books  included  transla- 
tions of  Shakespeare,  Robertson's  "  History 
of  Charles  V.,"  Bishop  Burnet,  and  Sir  John 
Mandeville ;  the  memoirs  of  Brant 6m e,  Bas- 
sompiere,  and  D' Angouleme ;  lives  of  Tu- 
renne  and  Marshal  Saxe ;  the  travels  of 
Chardin,  Kemper,  and  La  Condamine ;  the 
"  Golden  Ass,"  Marcus  Aurelius,  and  Epicte- 
tus.  She  chose  to  have  her  portrait  painted 
by  Drouais,  her  bust  modelled  by  Pajou,  and 
works  by  both  these  artists,  with  others  by 
Fragonard,  Restout,  Vasse*,  and  Lecomte, 
decorated  her  villa  at  Louveciennes. 

The  spacious   and  richly  decorated  salon 


Pajou  261 

shown  in  M.  Cain's  picture  contains  a  bril- 
liant company  of  courtiers  and  fashionables, 
not  forgetting  some  representatives  of  the 
Church,  who  are  watching  the  sculptor  at 
work  on  a  bust  of  the  reigning  favorite  of 
Louis  "the  Well -beloved."  Madame  du 
Barry  sits  on  a  date  with  her  negro  page, 
Zamor,  at  her  feet,  while  an  abb£  beguiles 
the  tedium  of  the  pose  by  reading.  The 
superb  marble  bust  now  in  the  Louvre,  which 
was  the  result  of  these  sittings,  is  one  of  the 
happiest  efforts  of  Pajou,  who  was  especially 
fortunate  in  his  portraits  of  women.  It  was 
modelled  in  his  prime,  in  1773,  the  year  be- 
fore the  death  of  the  king,  and  a  score  of 
years  before  the  head  of  Du  Barry  fell  be- 
neath the  stroke  of  the  guillotine. 

The  sculptor,  more  fortunate  than  his 
lovely  sitter,  escaped  any  danger  which  may 
have  menaced  him  during  the  Terror  because 
of  royal  patronage,  and  lived  until  1809. 

Augustin  Pajou  was  born  at  Paris  in  1730, 


262       The  Great  Masters  of  Painting 

^^> 
and  manifested    such   a   decided   talent   for 

sculpture  that  he  was  placed  at  an  early  age 
under  the  teaching  of  Le  Moyne.  His  prog- 
ress was  so  rapid  that  he*  won  the  grand 
prize  of  the  Academy  when  only  eighteen 
years  of  age.  On  returning  from  a  stay  of 
a  dozen  years  in  Rome,  he  soon  gained  repu- 
tation and  success,  and  in  1 767  was  appointed 
professor  of  sculpture  in  the  Academy  of 
Fine  Arts  in  Paris. 

His  statue  of  Psyche  is  in  the  Louvre, 
and  numerous  decorative  sculptures  from  his 
hand  may  be  seen  in  the  palace  at  Versailles. 
He  executed  the  monument  to  Marie  Le- 
czinska,  queen  of  Louis  XV.,  a  group  of 
"  Pluto  Holding  Cerberus  in  Chains,"  and 
another  of  a  "  Bacchante  with  Infants,"  and 
statues  of  Pascal,  Descartes,  Turenne,  Bos- 
suet,  and  Fe*nelon. 

A  bronze  medal  was  awarded  at  the  Paris 
Exposition  of  1889  to  Georges  Cain,  who  ex- 
hibited there,  among  other  works,  this  picture. 


Carpeaux  263 

of  Pajou  modelling  the  Du  Barry.  Cain,  who 
first  drew  breath  in  Paris  in  1856,  studied 
under  Cabanel  and  Detaille.  He  has  painted 
"  A  Barricade  in  1830  "  (this  picture  was  sent 
by  him  to  the  World's  Fair  in  Chicago  in 
1893),  "A  Quarrel  at  the  Cafe  de  la  Ro- 
tonde,"  "  Napoleon  after  his  Abdication," 
"A  Marriage  under  the  Directory,"  "A 
Bulletin  from  the  Army  of  Italy,"  and  "  Le 
Bust  de  Marat  aux  piliers  des  halles."  Some 
years  ago,  the  post  of  director  of  the  Musee 
Carnavelet  being  vacant,  it  fortunately  oc- 
curred to  the  authorities  to  appoint  Georges 
Cain  to  the  place,  and  the  result  was  satisfac- 
tory in  the  highest  degree. 

CARPEAUX 

SELDOM  does  the  art  of  a  nation  suffer 
such  loss  within  the  space  of  a  year  as  befell 
France  in  1875,  when  she  was  deprived  of 
Millet,  of  Corot,  of  Barye,  and  of  Carpeaux. 


264       The  Great  Masters  of  Painting 

It  would  be  too  presumptuous  to  claim  for 
the  last-named  artist  an  equal  rank  with  the 
painter  of  the  "  Sower,"  or  the  "  Orpheus," 
or  the  sculptor  of  the  "  Lion  Walking,"  yet 
Carpeaux,  too,  was  a  genius  —  a  genius  whom 
poverty  and  misfortune  followed  through  a 
life  of  only  forty-seven  years  to  a  painful 
death. 

His  friend  and  biographer,  Ernest  Ches- 
neau,  wrote :  "  It  is  said  that  the  poet  is 
born,  not  made ;  so  too  is  the  sculptor.  Not 
perhaps  the  maker  of  pretty  statuettes  or 
portrait-busts  of  varying  value  in  resemblance, 
but  the  monumental  statuary  like  Carpeaux 
must  feel  the  divine  essence  coursing  like 
the  life-blood  through  his  veins.  Think,  too, 
of  the  physical  force  required !  So  much,  at 
least,  was  the  dowry  of  Carpeaux  at  his  birth. 
Almost  from  his  infancy  accustomed  to  fa- 
miliar contact  with  the  instruments  of  his 
father's  labor,  he  naturally  and  easily  ac- 
quired the  muscular  force,  the  rude  strength, 


Carpeaux  265 

which  the  execution  of  monumental  statuary 
demands.  To  the  boy  whose  hands  were 
covered  with  callosities  formed  by  swinging 
the  heavy  hammer  of  the  mason  in  the  stone- 
quarry,  the  mallet  of  the  sculptor  seemed 
light.  To  the  peasant  accustomed  to  a  hard 
life,  unrelieved  by  luxurious  hours  of  repose, 
or  the  enjoyment  of  a  home  glowing  with 
objects  of  color  and  of  beauty,  the  gloomy 
adjuncts  of  the  sculptor's  studio  were  not  so 
repellent  as  they  would  be  to  you  and  me. 
Outside  of  the  chilling  horrors  of  the  interior 
of  a  morgue  I  can  fancy  no  room  more  cold 
and  vacant  than  the  studio  of  a  statuary,  — 
icy  cold  always,  in  spite  of  the  stove  heated 
white  in  all  seasons,  remote  from  the  centres, 
vast,  bare  of  all  furniture  save  that  which  the 
execution  of  the  work  in  hand  demands,  illu- 
mined coldly  by  the  freezing  northern  light 
which  scantily  falls  on  long  lines  of  plaster- 
casts  more  or  less  broken  and  deformed,  and 
black  with  the  thousand  dusts  of  years,  irreg- 


266       The  Great  Masters  of  Painting 

f$-s 
ularly   hung   about    on   the  otherwise   bare 

walls.  In  the  centre  of  the  room,  amid 
modelling-stands,  scaffoldings,  ladders,  stools, 
pails  full  of  water,  iron  bars  intended  for 
supports  to  the  heaviest  pieces,  mallets,  ham- 
mers, files,  chisels,  gouges,  iron  tools  and 
wooden  tools  of  every  shape  and  size,  rises  a 
mass  of  earth  half  enveloped  in  wet  cloths, 
whose  dampness  must  be  constantly  renewed 
as  it  evaporates  in  rheumatisms,  or  else  a 
huge  piece  of  stone  or  cube  of  marble,  now 
shedding  a  penetrating  powder  into  the  lungs 
of  those  about,  now  scattering  in  gigantic 
chips  under  the  terrific  blows  of  the  work- 
men. The  whole  atmosphere  is  gray  and 
cold ;  there  is  not  one  joy  for  the  eyes,  not 
a  note  of  color,  not  a  ray  of  sun.  The  sculp- 
tor would  be  only  a  stone-cutter  were  not  his 
stone-cutting  an  art,  —  an  art  which  demands 
for  its  pursuit  the  most  irresistible  sense  of 
vocation.  The  hours  of  pain  and  anxiety  are 
fairly  uncountable.  They  exist  during  the 


Carpeaux  267 

execution  of  the  work  in  every  step,  begin- 
ning with  those  during  which  the  master 
models  Beauty  in  the  damp  clay,  that  resist- 
ing, cold,  and  unlovely  matter.  And  when 
the  clay  is  finished  and  Beauty  is  just  born, 
the  torture  increases.  The  chrysalis  must 
pass  through  a  second  obscure  and  painful 
stage,  must  traverse  another  narrow  and 
gloomy  prison,  —  that  of  the  plaster,  a  heavy, 
opaque,  and  compact  sheath,  which,  though 
white,  is  entirely  lacking  in  luminosity.  Life 
has  to  be  buried  in  this  shroud.  With  what 
anguish  must  the  artist  suffer  these  slow 
transformations,  these  imitations  which  are 
but  the  heavy  grimace  of  his  ideal !  His 
sovereign  invention  has  designed  an  expres- 
sion of  his  thought  in  the  snowy  transparency 
of  marble  or  the  brilliancy  of  bronze;  but 
previously  he  must  endure  the  anxious  ordeal 
of  the  preliminaries,  the  cataleptic  states 
from  which  so  many  gods  and  demigods  have 
emerged  only  to  be  flung  back  with  scorn 


268       The  Great  Masters  of  Painting 

«^ 
into  the  lime-quarries  from  which  they  sprang. 

Viewing  all  the  difficulties  which  surround  it, 
it  is  indeed  not  too  much  to  assert  that  sculp- 
ture is  one  of  the  noblest  manifestations  of 
human  intelligence.  That  from  an  inert 
mass,  a  brutal  thing,  a  blind,  deaf,  and  dumb 
material  without  internal  life,  a  Phidias,  a 
Michael  Angelo,  a  Carpeaux  —  a  mere  man, 
in  fact,  —  should  evoke  a  whole  world  of  sen- 
sations and  thoughts;  that  from  a  block  of 
stone  he  should  create  a  type  of  perfect 
beauty,  —  is  not  this  a  proof  of  the  divinity  of 
our  essence  ?  The  victorious  element  which 
renders  these  men  masters  of  the  clay  in 
which  they  work  is  mind  ;  the  spirit,  the  vital 
spark,  —  a  force  superior  to  earthliness,  sub- 
lime, divine.  Call  this  power  what  you  will, 
it  matters  little.  It  is  the  soul,  the  immor- 
tality within  us,  which  dominates  the  brute 
resistance  of  exterior  phenomena  and  over- 
comes the  constant  hostility  of  the  materiality 
which  surrounds  us,  which,  with  a  skill  truly 


Carpeaux  269 

godlike,  from  a  shapeless  aggregation  of 
molecules  —  that  is,  from  nothing  —  makes 
a  glorious  something,  a  masterpiece  of  art,  a 
statue. 

"To  make  statues,  —  that  from  earliest 
infancy  was  Carpeaux's  dream." 

The  statues  have  been  made,  and  Carpeaux 
dreams  for  the  last  time,  dying  in  the  great 
studio  now  no  longer  bare,  but  peopled  with 
the  visionary  shapes  of  his  masterpieces.  In 
its  centre  rises  the  group  of  the  four  quarters 
of  the  globe  from  the  Luxembourg  fountain  ; 
on  the  left  smiles  the  joyous  relief  of  the 
"  Triumph  of  Flora,"  and  on  the  other  side 
palpitates  the  famous  "Dance."  One  of  its 
women  detaches  herself  for  an  instant  from 
the  dancing  chain,  and  stoops  to  print  a  kiss 
on  the  expiring  sculptor's  brow,  while  blos- 
soms fall  around  him  from  the  hand  of 
Europe. 

Fortune,  love,  and  health  have  left  Car- 
peaux, but  fame  and  these  —  the  works  so 


270       The  Great  Masters  of  Painting 

<^ 

dear  to  the  artist-soul  which  wrought  them 
—  are  his  forever. 

Maignan's  poetic  conception  of  Carpeaux 
is  in  the  Luxembourg  gallery,  together  with 
his  "Dante  Meeting  Matilda."  Born  in  1844, 
and  taught  by  Luminais,  Maignan  won  suc- 
cess long  since.  His  "Departure  of  the 
Norman  Fleet  for  the  Conquest  of  Eng- 
land "  was  bought  by  the  nation,  and  a  gold 
medal  was  awarded  him  at  the  Exposition  of 
1889.  "The  Birth  of  the  Pearl,"  "Voices 
of  the  Tocsin,"  "The  Sleep  of  Fra  An- 
gelico,"  "Frederic  Barbarossa  at  the  Feet 
of  the  Pope,"  "  Louis  IX.  Consoling  a 
Leper,"  and  "William  the  Conqueror"  are 
some  of  the  works  which  have  given  to 
Maignan  a  deserved  reputation. 


Puvis  de  Chavannes  271 

PUVIS   DE   CHAVANNES 

KING  CHRISTIAN  IX.  of  Denmark  com- 
pleted his  twenty-fifth  year  of  sovereignty 
in  1888,  and  a  Danish  National  Exhibition 
was  held  that  year  at  Copenhagen,  to  cele- 
brate the  auspicious  anniversary.  A  wealthy 
and  generous  Dane,  Carl  Jacobsen,  who  has 
given  a  splendid  gallery  of  sculpture  to  the 
city  of  Copenhagen,  desired  that  French  ar- 
tists should  be  represented  at  the  Exhibi- 
tion, and  had  a  special  pavilion  built  at  his 
own  expense  for  the  proper  display  of  their 
works.  Later  he  commissioned  Kroyer,  a 
Danish  painter  of  extraordinary  merit,  to 
execute  a  portrait  group  of  the  members 
of  the  committee  which  was  formed  to  man- 
age the  affair,  and  it  is  this  picture  which  we 
reproduce. 

The  group  contains  about  thirty  portraits 
in  all,  the  greater  part  being  Frenchmen  and 
artists. 


272       The  Great  Masters  of  Painting 

^-> 
Beginning  on  the  left,  we  recognize  the 

painter  Bonnat  in  the  foremost  seated  figure 
turning  to  speak  to  the  landscape-painter 
Cazin,  who  stands  with  his  hand  on  the 
back  of  a  chair.  The  three  heads  seen 
behind  Cazin  (going  from  left  to  right)  are 
those  of  the  painters  Besnard,  Roll,  and 
Gervex,  and  the  man  sitting  next  behind 
Bonnat  is  the  sculptor  Delaplanche.  A  con- 
spicuous figure  in  the  background  is  Carolus 
Duran,  the  portraitist,  a  standing  figure  fac- 
ing us  and  smoking  a  cigarette.  The  man 
seated,  looking  up,  is  Paul  Dubois,  the  sculp- 
tor, and  next  him  is  Pasteur,  the  great  chem- 
ist, who  is  examining  the  plan  which  Klein, 
the  Danish  architect,  points  out.  The  men 
standing  behind  Dubois  and  Pasteur  are 
Charles  Gamier,  the  architect  of  the  Paris 
Opera  House,  and  Herr  Jacobsen.  Next  to 
Klein  is  Antonin  Proust,  the  well-known 
deputy,  below  whom  we  see  the  profile  of 
Puvis  de  Chavannes.  Standing  next  Proust 


Puvis  de  Chavannes  273 

is  Lucien  Magne,  the  architect.  The  white 
head  on  the  left  of  Puvis  de  Chavannes  is 
that  of  Gerome,  next  to  him  is  the  sculptor 
Barrias,  next  is  Chaplain,  the  medallist,  and 
the  man  in  front  of  the  picture  who  looks  at 
Bonnat  is  Falguiere,  the  sculptor.  The  two 
men  standing  on  the  extreme  right  are 
Tuxen,  a  Danish  artist,  and  Kroyer,  who 
introduced  his  own  portrait  into  the  group 
he  has  so  ably  realized. 

It  is  scarcely  an  error  to  assign  the  highest 
rank  among  the  artists  in  this  notable  group 
to  Puvis  de  Chavannes.  Boston  is  indeed 
fortunate  in  possessing  in  her  noble  public 
library  some  superb  decorations  from  the 
master  hand  of  the  great  mural  painter, 
who  "must  take  rank  with  the  greatest 
painters  of  the  century,  as  one  who  has 
achieved  great  and  lasting  things,  whose  aims 
have  always  been  lofty  and  noble,  and  who 
has  borne  high  the  banner  of  the  ideal  and 
the  essentially  true,  at  a  time  when  the  oppo- 


274       The  Great  Masters  of  Painting 

<i>-s 
sition  was   most   powerful,  and   the   danger 

most  pressing." 

Peter  Severin  Kroyer  was  born  at  Sta- 
vanger,  in  Norway,  in  1851,  but,  being  left 
an  orphan  at  an  early  age,  was  taken  to 
Denmark,  where  he  grew  up  to  manhood. 
After  studying  at  the  Academy  of  Fine  Arts 
in  Copenhagen,  he  became  a  pupil  of  Bonnat 
in  Paris.  There  he  won  many  honors,  in- 
cluding one  of  the  grand  prizes  at  the  Expo- 
sition of  1889,  and  a  medal  of  honor  at  the 
Exposition  of  1900.  His  most  notable  pic- 
tures are  "Skagen  Fishermen,"  "Artists 
Breakfast  at  Skagen,"  "Village  Hat-maker: 
Italy,"  "  Soire"e  in  Karlsberg,"  and  "  Summer 
Day  on  the  Beach  at  Skagen." 


THE   END. 


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